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LOUISA    MAY  ALCOTT 

DREAMER    AND    WORKER 


LOUISA    MAY   ALCOTT 

DREAMER     AND     WORKER 

A  STORY  OF  ACHIEVEMENT 


BY 

BELLE    MOSES 


D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 

NEW    YORK    AND     LONDON 

1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Published  October,  1909 


FS 


TO 
MY    MOTHER 

WHO    HAS    BEEN    TO    HER    CHILDREN 

WHAT   "MARMEE"   WAS  TO  HER 

"LITTLE  WOMEN" 


INTRODUCTION. 


LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT  occupies  £  niche  peculiarly 
her  own  in  the  hearts  of  American  girls.  No 
writer  of  fiction,  before  her  time  or  since,  has  been 
able  to  touch  the  responsive  chord  that  Miss  Alcott 
struck  in  "  Little  Women  "  and  the  many  succeed- 
ing girls'  stories.  Her  charm  lay,  not  in  plot  nor 
excitement,  but  in  the  natural,  healthy,  everyday 
life  she  spread  out  before  her  readers.  Incidents 
drawn  freely  from  her  own  and  her  sisters'  lives 
formed  the  framework  of  "  Little  Women,"  and 
through  her  stories,  long  or  short,  runs  this  vein  of 
reality. 

From  her  obscurity  as  a  struggling  author  she 
sprang  to  the  first  place,  and  her  name  has  since  be- 
come a  household  word.  And  so  I  should  like  to 
introduce  Miss  Alcott  to  her  girl  friends  as  a  girl 
like  themselves,  who  worked,  who  struggled,  and 
who  conquered  by  sheer  force  of  energy  and  perse- 
verance, not  by  the  great  things  she  did,  but  by  the 
little  things  that  counted  most.  Forty  years  ago 
"  Little  Women  "  made  its  bow  to  the  world,  and 
forty  years  hence  it  will  still  be  found  on  our  girls' 
bookshelves,  as  fresh  and  vigorous  as  ever. 


viii  INTRODUCTION. 

Miss  Alcott  wrote  as  Shakespeare  did,  for  all  time 
and  all  generations.  The  element  of  immortal  youth 
is  in  all  her  work,  and  abounds  throughout  the  story 
of  her  life,  which  the  following  pages  will  strive 
to  tell. 

In  the  preparation  of  the  book  I  have  been  in- 
debted to  Messrs.  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  The  Ladies' 
Home  Journal,  my  brother,  Montrose  J.  Moses,  and 
the  writings  of  Mrs.  Cheney,  Mrs.  Porter,  Mrs. 
Clarke,  F.  B.  Sanborn,  Miss  Cate,  and  others, 
whose  intimate  knowledge  of  the  author  and  her 
life  has  been  of  great  assistance  to  me. 

BELLE  MOSES. 

NEW  YORK,  June,  1909. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES i 

II. — A  SIMPLE  LIFE 19 

III. — THE  HEART  OF  A  GIRL 40 

IV. — SEEKING  A  VOCATION 54 

V. — AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR 70 

VI. — "LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN  UP        ...       88 

VII. — PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY 103 

VIII. — THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE         .        .        .     120 

IX. — LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT 138 

X. — RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD  .        .        .158 

XI. — "LITTLE  WOMEN" 177 

XII.— "WHO'S  WHO?" 194 

XIII. — "SHAWL  STRAPS" 211 

XIV.— THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN"        .        .        .232 

XV. — PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY      .        .        .        .251 

XVI. — MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN       .        .        .        .273 

XVII. — NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS      .        .     295 

XVIII. — A  LOVING  MEMORY 315 


LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 


CHAPTER    I. 

LOUISA    MAY    ARRIVES. 

JOVEMBER'S  child  of  many  moods  ar- 
rived on  the  2Qth  day,  1832,  sharing-  the 
birthday  of  her  father  and  Christopher 
Columbus,  if  we  can  believe  the  records, 
and  she  first  opened  her  eyes  in  a  large,  square,  old- 
fashioned  house  in  old-fashioned  Germantown,  not 
far  from  Philadelphia.  It  was  somewhat  off  the 
main  street,  and  was  known  as  The  Pinery  or  Pine 
Place,  because  of  the  pines  surrounding  it,  so 
Louisa's  tiny  nose  sniffed  the  sweet,  pungent  odor 
before  she  even  thought  it  worth  while  to  take  a 
peep  at  the  world. 

Her  father  and  mother,  being  old-fashioned  peo- 
ple, were  delighted  with  the  new  baby,  who  would 
be  such  a  fine  playmate  for  little  Anna,  just  two 
years  old,  and  though  they  were  as  poor  as  poor 
could  be,  they  welcomed  the  newcomer  with  all 
their  loving  hearts,  little  dreaming  that  she  would 
prove  to  be  a  regular  fairy  luck  child. 


2  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

The  first  thing  she  did  of  any  consequence  was 
to  send  her  regards  to  her  grandfather,  Colonel 
May,  to  whom  Mr.  Alcott  wrote  at  once,  announc- 
ing her  arrival.  At  the  end  of  the  letter  he  says: 

"With  Abba's  [Mrs.  Alcott's],  Anna's,  and 
Louisa's  regards,  allow  me  to  assure  you  of  the 
sincerity  with  which  I  am, 

"  Yours, 

"  A.  BRONSON  ALCOTT." 

How  quaint  and  stiff  and  formal  those  old-time 
letters  were ! 

By  all  accounts  Louisa  was  a  beautiful  baby,  a  de- 
light to  play  with,  to  cuddle,  and  to  kiss.  And 
though  Germantown  happened  by  accident  to  be  her 
birthplace,  she  was — from  the  crown  of  her  head 
to  the  toes  of  her  active  feet — of  sturdy  New  Eng- 
land stuff. 

Her  father,  Amos  Bronson  Alcott,  was  born  in 
1799,  thirty-three  years  before  Louisa  came,  at  the 
foot  of  Spindle  Hill,  in  the  region  called  New  Con- 
necticut. His  family  name  in  the  old  English  rec- 
ords had  been  Alcocke,  and  belonged  to  a  line  of 
English  gentlemen  who  came  over  to  America  and 
took  up  farming  in  New  England.  Some  called  the 
name  Alcox,  but  when  Amos  Bronson  and  his 
cousin  William  set  out  to  seek  their  fortunes,  they 
changed  it  to  Alcott;  while  another  branch  of  the 
family  called  themselves  Olcott. 

Mrs.  Alcott  was  the  twelfth  and  youngest  child 


LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES.  3 

of  Colonel  Joseph  May,  and  was  related  also  to  the 
Quinceys  and  Sewalls  of  Massachusetts  fame.  Her 
brother,  Samuel  J.  May,  was  a  Unitarian  minister, 
and  a  very  prominent  man  in  his  day — a  day  of 
many  great  men.  Mrs.  Alcott  was  a  woman  of 
grace  and  refinement,  so  little  Louisa  and  her  sisters, 
the  four  "  Little  Women  " —  Meg,  Jo,  Beth,  and 
Amy — so  dear  to  every  girl's  heart,  had  a  rich  heri- 
tage by  birth,  no  matter  how  little  they  had  of  other 
riches. 

Mr.  Alcott  was  teaching  school  when  Louisa  was 
born,  but  he  had  new  ways  of  teaching  which  the 
stolid  Germantown  people  did  not  like,  so  his  school 
was  not  successful,  and  he  moved  to  Boston  when 
Louisa  was  two  years  old — a  chubby  little  mischief, 
who  "  got  lost  "  on  her  very  first  journey. 

They  traveled  by  boat  from  Philadelphia  to  Bos- 
ton ;  Anna  and  Louisa,  spick  and  span,  in  clean  nan- 
keen suits,  when  it  was  suddenly  discovered  that 
Louisa  was  missing.  High  and  low  they  searched, 
until  at  last  they  found  her  in  the  engine  room, 
placidly  poking  into  places  that  were  "  all  nice  and 
dirty  " — looking,  no  doubt,  "  all  nice  and  dirty," 
too.  How  she  came  there  she  never  explained ;  she 
might  have  been  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  or  made 
friends  with  the  engine  man,  or  wanted  to  "  see  the 
wheels  go  round,"  for  she  was  of  a  most  inquiring 
mind,  but  at  any  rate  she  had  enjoyed  herself. 

In  Boston  the  real  home  life  began.  It  would 
have  been  hard  to  find  a  happier  couple  than  Mr. 


4  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Alcott  and  his  wife,  and  the  two  little  girls  grew 
and  expanded  in  an  atmosphere  of  love  and  intelli- 
gence. Mr.  Alcott  became  head  of  the  Temple 
School,  where  he  felt  free  to  teach  his  new  ideas  in 
his  own  way;  but  Louisa  was  too  young  to  attend 
school  except  for  an  occasional  visit,  though  her 
education  began  at  an  unusually  early  age.  Kinder- 
gartens were  unknown  in  those  days,  yet  Mr.  Al- 
cott was  ahead  of  his  time  and  had  real  kindergarten 
ideas  about  making  study  pleasant  for  the  children, 
whose  quick  minds  flew  to  knowledge.  Two  more 
little  girls  were  added  to  the  family  group.  Eliza- 
beth, the  Beth  of  "  Little  Women,"  was  born 
during  the  six  years  spent  in  Boston;  there  was 
also  a  tiny  boy  who  never  lived;  then  came  Abbey 
May,  the  baby  and  pet  of  the  family,  Amy  in  the 
story,  who  was  born  in  the  happy  Concord  days 
that  immediately  followed  the  unfortunate  years 
in  Boston. 

Louisa  at  a  very  early  age  began  to  have 
"  thinks,"  one  could  scarcely  call  them  thoughts,  for 
they  went  on  all  the  time  and  were  too  large  and 
indefinite  to  classify.  This  small  person,  in  moments 
when  her  animal  spirits  were  not  leading  her  into 
paths  of  strange  adventure,  was  much  given  to  re- 
flection ;  her  little  soul  was  a  turbulent,  unruly  thing ; 
she  was  often  sad  because  of  it,  and  had  her  fits  of 
gloom  like  many  an  older  person.  But  a  whiff  of 
fresh  air,  a  kindly  word,  the  sense  of  human  com- 
panionship and  sympathy,  worked  a  magic  cure,  and 


LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES.  5 

she  would  be  once  more  the  hearty,  happy  child,  who 
"  loved  everybody  in  dis  whole  world." 

Such  a  nature  as  hers  could  not  have  had  two 
better  guides.  Her  father  encouraged  this  habit  of 
reflection,  and  discussed  her  small  troubles  with  her 
as  gravely  as  he  handled  heavier  matters,  while  her 
mother  steered  her  safely  through  the  practical  de- 
tails of  her  daily  life,  each  fired  with  the  unselfish 
desire  to  give  the  best  to  the  little  girl. 

From  the  time  they  could  guide  their  pens  and 
put  their  thoughts  on  paper,  the  Alcott  children  were 
required  to  keep  a  journal  and  write  down  freely 
their  thoughts  and  doings  from  day  to  day.  These 
journals  were  always  open  for  inspection  and  guid- 
ing criticism  from  both  father  and  mother,  and  be- 
came fine  records  of  the  growth  of  mind  and  char- 
acter. 

Food  for  the  mind  was  placed  first  in  Mr.  Alcott's 
ideas  of  education.  It  was  his  conviction  that  the 
simplest  food  for  the  body  produced  the  highest 
thinking  and  living,  and  the  children  were  brought 
up  on  this  principle.  "  Goodies  "  such  as  children 
love  never  came  their  way,  unless  in  the  shape  of 
fruits.  What  was  plucked  from  trees  or  plants  or 
dug  from  the  ground  was  healthy,  natural  food  in 
his  opinion,  while  he  considered  it  wrong  to  eat  and 
enjoy  anything  which  had  to  be  killed  for  the  pur- 
pose. But  during  the  Boston  days,  when  the  chil- 
dren were  too  young  to  be  reasoned  with,  they  found 
that  rice  without  sugar,  and  Graham  meal  minus 


6  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

butter  or  molasses,  was  most  uninteresting  fare  and 
extremely  tiresome.  A  lady  friend,  who  chanced 
to  be  living  in  luxury  at  a  hotel  in  Boston,  fell  into 
the  habit  of  saving  delicious  bits  of  pie  and  cake  for 
the  young  Alcotts,  and  Louisa  often  carried  j.  -n 
home  in  a  bandbox,  which  she  brought  for  tn<tt 
purpose.  Years  afterwards,  when  she  became  fa- 
mous, she  met  this  friend  in  the  street  and  greeted 
her  cordially. 

"  Why,  my  dear !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "  I 
did  not  think  you  would  remember  me." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  ever  forget  that  band- 
box ?  "  replied  Louisa  quickly. 

Still  it  seems  highly  improbable  that  Mr.  Alcott 
deprived  his  children  entirely  of  meat,  for  in  his 
diary,  in  speaking  of  their  healthy  appetites,  he  says 
of  Louisa :  "  She  enjoys  her  food,  partaking  of 
animal  food  with  great  relish." 

Her  first  memory  of  herself  is  of  playing  with 
the  books  in  her  father's  study,  "  building  houses 
and  bridges  of  the  big  dictionaries  and  diaries,  look- 
ing at  pictures,  pretending  to  read,  and  scribbling  on 
blank  pages,  whenever  pen  or  pencil  could  be  found." 

"  On  one  occasion,"  she  says,  in  a  sketch  of  her 
childhood,  "  we  built  a  high  tower  around  baby  Liz- 
zie, as  she  sat  playing  with  her  toys  on  the  floor,  and 
being  attracted  by  something  out  of  doors,  forgot 
our  little  prisoner.  A  search  was  made,  and  patient 
baby  at  last  discovered  curled  up  and  fast  asleep  in 
her  dungeon  cell,  out  of  which  she  emerged  so  rosy 


LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES.  7 

and  smiling  after  her  nap,  that  we  were  forgiven 
for  our  carelessness." 

The  Alcotts  always  celebrated  their  birthdays  with 
great  enthusiasm.  The  gifts  were  hidden  from 
vie*/,  the  queen  of  the  festival  was  escorted  to  the 
seat  of  honor  to  the  sound  of  a  march,  always  a 
moment  of  overwhelming  embarrassment,  until  the 
packages  were  opened  and  thanks  and  kisses  sprin- 
kled liberally.  Louisa's  memory  of  her  fourth  birth- 
day is  very  vivid;  she  celebrated  it  in  her  father's 
schoolroom  at  Masonic  Temple.  She  wore  a  crown 
of  flowers  and  stood  on  a  table  to  receive  congratula- 
tions from  all  the  children.  As  each  of  her  guests 
passed  by,  the  "  birthday  girl "  bestowed  a  small 
cake,  but  by  some  accident  the  cakes  fell  short,  and 
when  Louisa  came  to  the  last  one  it  was  suddenly 
borne  in  upon  her  that  if  she  gave  it  away  she  would 
have  none  left  for  herself.  This  seemed  most  unjust 
as  it  was  her  birthday,  but  a  few  wise  words  from 
her  mother  turned  the  scale. 

"  It  is  always  better  to  give  away  than  to  keep  the 
nice  things;  so  I  know  my  Louy  will  not  let  the 
little  friend  go  without." 

"  So,"  writes  Miss  Alcott,  "  the  little  friend  re- 
ceived the  dear,  plummy  cake,  and  I  a  kiss,  and  my 
first  lesson  in  the  sweetness  of  self-denial." 

Little  Louisa  had  one  sad  habit;  she  was  fond  of 
running  away,  and  on  one  of  these  interesting  oc- 
casions she  spent  the  day  with  some  Irish  children, 
who  shared  a  very  frugal  and  a  very  salty  dinner 


8  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT, 

with  her,  after  which  they  played  in  the  ash  heaps, 
and  later  took  a  trip  to  the  Common.  Presently  her 
friends  deserted  her;  it  grew  dark,  and  she  began 
to  long  for  home.  She  finally  sat  down  on  a  wel- 
come doorstep  beside  a  friendly  big  dog,  who  kindly 
allowed  her  to  use  his  back  as  a  pillow.  She  was 
roused  from  sleep  by  the  town  crier,  who  had  been 
sent  in  search  of  her  by  her  distracted  parents.  She 
says :  "  His  bell  and  proclamation  of  the  loss  of  '  a 
little  girl  six  years  old,  in  a  pink  frock,  white  hat, 
and  new  green  shoes  '  woke  me  up,,  and  a  small  voice 
answered  out  of  the  darkness :  '  Why,  dat's  me  ' !  " 

Very  much  the  same  thing  happened  to  Naughty 
Nan  in  "  Little  Men,"  when  she  and  Rob  got  lost, 
and  it  seems  that  Louisa's  escapade  was  punished 
as  Nan's  was.  The  runaway  was  tied  to  the  arm  of 
a  sofa  next  day,  to  cure  her  of  the  wandering  habit. 
She  was  an  athletic  little  soul;  she  loved  to  climb 
trees  and  leap  fences  and  run  races  like  a  young  deer 
or  colt.  It  was  nothing  unusual  for  her  to  drive  her 
hoop  around  the  Common,  and  her  friendships  were 
always  based  on  powers  of  achievement.  Barring 
her  own  sisters,  girls  were  nothing  to  her  unless  they 
were  tomboys,  but  boys  appealed  to  her  through  their 
prowess;  the  boy  who  could  not  equal  her  in  lively 
sports  deserved  no  place  in  her  friendship;  he  who 
excelled  was  worshiped  as  a  hero,  and  Louisa  had 
many  heroes  in  her  active  youth. 

At  the  age  of  seven  her  particular  idol  was  a  cer- 
tain Frank,  who  was  a  lord  of  creation  and  loftily 


LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES.  9 

permitted  her  devotion.  He  used  to  amuse  himself 
by  slapping  her  hands  with  books,  hoopsticks,  shoes, 
or  anything  which  could  give  a  good  stinging  blow, 
hoping  to  make  her  cry;  but  she  bore  the  pain  with 
fortitude,  quite  repaid  when  she  heard  him  tell  the 
other  boys  "  she's  a  brave  little  thing  and  you  can't 
make  her  cry."  There  were  long  days  of  romping, 
and  happy  evenings  snuggled  in  sofa  corners,  plan- 
ning tricks  and  eating  stolen  "  goodies,"  and 
"  sometimes,"  she  tells  us  in  "My Boys,"  a  jolly  little 
story  of  her  early  loves,  "Frank  would  put  his  curly 
head  in  my  lap  and  let  me  stroke  it  when  he  was 
tired."  But  this  boy,  alas!  proved  treacherous  and 
gave  his  adorer  up  to  a  punishment  which  she  had 
justly  deserved,  but  which  she  had  tried  to  escape 
by  locking  herself  in  the  dining  room;  this  false 
friend,  with  the  twinkling  eyes  and  the  curly  hair, 
climbed  in  at  the  window  and  unlocked  the  door, 
adding  insult  to  injury  by  helping  to  bear  her  off 
to  imprisonment.  This  was  a  sad  blow  to  Louisa; 
she  would  have  been  stanch  and  true  under  any 
circumstances,  and  she  never  forgave  this  first  love 
of  hers,  though  he  tempted  her  with  offers  of  pea- 
nuts and  candy,  ginger  snaps  and  car  rides.  She 
had  lost  faith  in  his  loyalty. 

Loyalty  was  a  star  characteristic  of  the  Alcott 
family.  No  matter  what  the  cause  or  how  forlorn 
the  hope,  if  he  deemed  it  just  and  wise,  and  for  the 
benefit  of  his  fellow-creatures,  Mr.  Alcott  fought 
for  it  with  his  whole  soul,  and  clung  to  it  with  his 


10  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

whole  strength.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  with  him 
stood  his  brave  wife  loyally  supporting  him,  while 
her  capable  hands  toiled  to  make  the  burdens  lighter, 
and  the  little  girls — each  early  impressed  with  the 
responsibility  of  looking  after  her  soul — were  always 
loyal  to  the  trust  and  to  each  other,  and  to  the  father 
and  mother,  to  whom  they  so  freely  brought  their 
small  troubles  and  perplexities. 

So  the  home  of  the  Alcotts  was  rich  in  love  and 
loyalty, -but  poor  in  worldly  goods.  Mr.  Alcott's 
Boston  school  began  to  dwindle  sadly,  until  he  found 
himself  at  last  with  but  five  pupils,  three  of  whom 
were  his  own  daughters.  This  was  unfortunate,  for 
he  was  a  born  teacher,  enthusiastic,  cultured,  and 
devoted  to  young  people.  He  has  said  himself : 
"  When  one  becomes  indifferent  to  women,  to  chil- 
dren and  to  young  people,  he  may  know  that  he  is 
superannuated,  and  has  withdrawn  from  whatso- 
ever is  sweetest  and  purest  in  human  existence." 
The  cause  of  his  unpopularity  was  to  be  found  in 
the  very  strong  views  he  held  on  antislavery.  Bos- 
ton had  not  yet  put  on  her  war  paint,  and  the  single- 
minded  gentleman  almost  lost  caste  on  account  of 
his  advanced  opinions.  He  was  compelled  to  give 
up  his  school,  and  the  "  Pathetic  Family,"  as  Louisa 
often  called  them  in  later  years,  moved  to  historic 
old  Concord,  where  the  three  little  girls  found  an- 
other little  sister  and  spent  the  happiest  years  of 
their  lives. 

Going  to  Concord,  away  from  big  and  busy  Bos- 


LOUISA  MAY. ARRIVES.  n 

ton,  was  like  going  into  the  country,  and  the  three 
young  ones  always  enjoyed  that  when  they  went  on 
brief  summer  outings  to  Scituate.  In  Concord  they 
had  a  pleasant  house,  a  garden  full  of  trees,  and  a 
big  barn,  which  was  their  delight,  and  where  they 
produced  many  marvelous  plays,  products  of  their 
own  busy  brains.  Both  Anna  and  Louisa  had  a 
wonderful  gift  for  acting,  and  the  old  barn  was  the 
scene  of  many  triumphs.  They  dramatized  the  fairy 
tales  in  fine  style — "  Jack  and  the  Beanstalk," 
"  Cinderella "  and  others.  That  moral  tale  of 
the  foolish  woman  who  wasted  her  three  wishes 
was  admirably  illustrated  by  a  big  black  pudding, 
which  was  lowered  by  invisible  hands  until  it  fas- 
tened itself  upon  her  nose. 

Playing  pilgrims  was  a  favorite  amusement  when 
they  were  little.  "  Sometimes,"  as  Miss  Alcott  tells 
us  in  her  recollections,  they  "  journeyed  over  the 
hill  with  scrip  and  staff  and  cockle-shells  in  their 
hats."  At  other  times,  so  vividly  described  in  "  Lit- 
tle Women,"  their  mother  tied  her  piece-bags  on 
their  backs  for  burdens,  gave  them  hats,  sticks,  and 
rolls  of  paper,  and  sent  them  from  the  cellar,  which 
was  the  City  of  Destruction,  to  the  housetop,  which 
was  the  Celestial  City,  and  being  nothing  if  not 
dramatic,  as  well  as  little  earnest,  toiling  Christians, 
they  acted  out  their  progress  during  their  upward 
journey.  There  was  plenty  of  religion  in  the  Al- 
cott household,  moments  of  holy  enthusiasm,  born 
of  Nature  and  the  love  of  it. 


12  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

One  can  fancy  Louisa's  restless  feet  taking  her 
over  the  hills  at  dawn  one  summer  morning;  the 
rest  in  the  silent  woods,  the  glimpse  of  the  sun  ris- 
ing over  the  hills,  were  awe-inspiring  to  the  thought- 
ful child.  She  tells  us  herself  that  she  felt  as  she 
had  never  felt  before,  God's  presence  near  her,  and, 
as  she  says,  she  got  religion  in  that  quiet  hour. 

Here,  in  the  open,  they  learned  their  lessons, 
charming  nature  lessons,  with  their  father  as  teacher. 
Their  mother  was  generally  with  them  in  their  hours 
of  recreation ;  she  was  an  admirable  manager  and 
she  made  it  a  rule  to  rise  early  in  the  morning,  to 
finish  all  the  work  in  the  forenoon,  so  that  the  after- 
noon could  be  devoted  to  the  children.  This  was  a 
time  of  wandering  in  the  woods  under  clear  sum- 
mer skies,  telling  stories,  playing  games,  and  spout- 
ing poetry.  There  were  friends,  too,  to  share  these 
pleasures,  the  young  Emersons,  the  Hawthornes,  the 
Channings,  and  the  Goodwins — all  children  of  re- 
markable parents. 

Dr.  Edward  W.  Emerson,  one  of  the  "  boys," 
gives  us  a  delightful  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Alcott  in  her 
relations  with  her  children :  "  She  was  not  only  lov- 
ing and  sympathetic,  but  she  had  a  well-stored  and 
fertile  mind.  From  her  they  learned  to  depend  on 
themselves  for  good  times,  and  their  imaginations 
were  quickened.  The  zeal  of  the  mother  in  helping 
on  her  children's  little  plans  appears  in  a  touching 
sentence  in  a  story  of  Louisa's,  describing  a  school 
masquerade  such  as  we  had  later.  The  fathers 


LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES.  13 

might  grudge  the  expense.  '  But  the  mothers, 
whose  interest  in  their  children's  pleasure  is  a  sort 
of  evergreen  that  no  frost  of  time  can  kill,  sewed 
spangles  by  the  bushel,  and  made  wildernesses  of 
tissue  paper  blossom  like  the  rose,  kept  tempers 
sweet,  stomachs  full,  and  domestic  machinery  work- 
ing through  it  all,  by  that  maternal  magic  which 
makes  them  the  human  providences  of  this  naughty 
world.' " 

Louisa  became  the  devoted  mother  of  a  doll  at 
the  age  of  seven,  and  her  mother  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  go  with  the  birthday  gift : 

"  MY  DEAR  LITTLE  GIRL  : 

"  Will  you  accept  this  doll  from  me  on  your  sev- 
enth birthday?  She  will  be  a  quiet  playmate  for 
my  active  Louisa  for  seven  years  more.  Be  a  kind 
mamma  and  love  her  for  my  sake. 

"YOUR  MOTHER. 

"Beach  Street,  Boston,  1839." 

Dolls  were  always  a  source  of  pleasure  to  the  Al- 
cott  children,  they  became  living  things  in  their  pos- 
session. Louisa  put  hers  through  every  experience 
of  life,  and  at  twelve  she  was  a  regular  doll's  dress- 
maker, hung  out  her  sign  and  invited  custom. 

Those  early  Concord  days  saw  the  first  dawning 
of  creative  power  in  the  little  girl,  and  the  poem 
written  to  the  half-starved  robin  they  found  in  the 
garden  one  cold  morning,  and  warmed  and  fed,  was 


14  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT, 

Louisa's  first  effort.     It  was  written  when  she  was 
eight  years  old. 

To  THE  FIRST  ROBIN. 

Welcome,  welcome,  little  stranger, 
Fear  no  harm  and  fear  no  danger; 
We  are  glad  to  see  you  here, 
For  you  sing  "Sweet  Spring  is  near." 

Now  the  white  snow  melts  away ; 
Now  the  flowers  blossom  gay  : 
Come,  dear  bird,  and  build  your  nest, 
For  we  love  our  robin  best. 

Mrs.  Alcott  was  so  delighted  that  she  predicted 
that  Louisa  would  become  a  second  Shakespeare. 
And  indeed  from  this  time  the  little  girl's  many 
thoughts  took  shape  in  verse,  and  the  pen  which  her 
mother  gave  her  on  her  tenth  birthday  was  thereafter 
put  into  active  service.  Perhaps  the  best  record  of 
these  little  "  pilgrims'  progress  "  is  found  in  their 
father's  diaries.  He  knew  each  child,  to  the  core  of 
her  innocent  heart.  Louisa  and  Anna,  so  near  of  an 
age,  were  totally  different  in  character.  Anna  was 
spirited,  but  sweet  and  tractable  at  most  times,  but 
Louisa  was  turbulent.  If  Anna  had  anything  she, 
Louisa,  wanted,  she  claimed  it  at  once,  with  "  en- 
treaties, tears,  even  blows." 

On  one  occasion  the  subject  of  dispute  was  a  cer- 
tain rocking  chair,  in  which  both  wanted  to  sit. 


LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES.  15 

They  were  very  angry,  and  the  fight  was  hot,  when 
Mr.  Alcott  interfered. 

"  Anna,  can  you  not  give  up  the  chair  to  your 
sister?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  was  her  prompt  reply. 

"  I  will  leave  you  to  try  then,"  he  went  on. 

"  Very  well,  father,  I  will  try,"  she  answered 
coolly,  "  and  now  I  think  we  can  get  along  without 
you." 

Mr.  Alcott  retreated  to  his  study,  but  the  noise 
grew  so  unbearable  that  he  was  forced  to  rush  again 
to  the  rescue.  This  time  he  separated  the  combat- 
ants, and  the  bribe  of  an  apple  lured  Anna  peaceably 
to  the  study. 

"  And  now,  Anna,"  said  her  father,  as  she  sat 
placidly  nibbling  the  rosy  fruit,  "  did  you  give  up 
the  chair  to  Louisa  because  you  loved  your  sister, 
or  because  you  wanted  the  apple  ?  " 

"  Because  I  wanted  the  apple,"  she  calmly  replied. 

Thinking  to  make  more  impression  on  the  victo- 
rious Louisa,  he  paid  a  third  visit  to  the  nursery — 
the  seat  of  battle.  Of  this  visit  he  made  no  record, 
beyond  the  brief  statement  that — 

"  Louisa  had  taken  the  chair !  " 

The  nursery  was  a  place  of  delight  to  the  young- 
sters for  acting  out  the  stories  Father  told  them  in 
the  twilight — the  children's  hour.  They  would  go 
to  bed  with  their  eager  young  minds  full  of  sprites 
and  fairies,  good  and  bad  angels,  smiling  skies, 
crystal  raindrops,  gurgling  waters,  and  beautiful  gar- 


16  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

dens  with  bright  walls  around  them,  and  the  next 
day  they  would  remember  the  stories  in  their  own 
fanciful  way.  One  of  these  tales  they  called  "  The 
Garden  of  Goodness."  Another  favorite  was  "  The 
Story  of  a  Little  Feeling,"  a  tale  in  which  Love  and 
Hate  fought  for  a  little  girl's  heart.  This  was  acted 
with  great  success. 

Indeed,  whatever  particularly  impressed  them  they 
acted  out  at  once,  Louisa  taking  the  principal  parts, 
as  soon  as  she  had  overcome  her  baby  lisp,  Anna 
slipping  good-naturedly  into  the  second  place. 

On  their  nursery  bookshelves  could  be  found  all 
the  best  reading  for  children  in  those  days,  and  to 
the  girls  of  to-day  the  following  list  of  well-selected 
books  must  look  queer  and  old-fashioned. 

LIST  OF  THE  ALCOTT  BOOKS. 

Frank. 

Cherry  Orchard.  }•  Miss  EDGEWORTH. 

Liar  and  Boys  of  Truth. 

Lessons  for  Children. 

MRS.  B ARBOUR. 


Little  Henri. 

Original  Poems  for  Infant 

Minds.  }•  ANN  AND  JANE  TAYLOR. 

Rhymes  for  the  Nursery 
Familiar  Tales. 
The  Rosebud. 

The  Daisy.  [•  MRS.  CRABB. 

The  Cowslip. 

Little  Rhymes.  1  MRS.  POLLEN. 

The  Child's  Gem.  ) 


LOUISA  MAY  ARRIVES.  17 

Hannah  Lee.  \ 

Little  Woman  and  Pedlar.       >  WILSON. 

Mother  Goose.  ) 

Poems  for  Children.  MRS.  HALES. 

Babes  in  the  Woods. 

Cinderella. 

The  Looking  Glass. 

A  funny  collection,  but  gems  to  the  Alcott  chil- 
dren, who  made  the  best  use  of  them,  acting  out 
each  story  to  their  own  satisfaction.  "  The  Old 
Woman  and  the  Pedlar  "  was  a  special  favorite, 
and  called  forth  much  applause. 

Louisa's  earliest  responsibility,  a  responsibility 
which  fell  heavily  on  each  of  the  "  Little  Women," 
was  her  conscience.  The  careful  father  had  early 
taught  them  that  conscience  consisted  of  a  mind  and 
a  soul.  The  mind  was  a  round  room,  and  the  soul 
a  little  creature  with  wings,  that  lived  in  it.  The 
walls  were  full  of  shelves  and  drawers,  in  which 
they  kept  their  thoughts,  and  there  were  goodness 
and  badness  and  all  sorts  of  things.  The  goodness 
could  always  be  seen,  and  the  badness  was  always 
locked  up  tight.  But  it  got  out  somehow  and  they 
had  a  hard  time  putting  it  back  and  squeezing  it 
down,  it  was  so  strong.  Louisa  often  played  with 
her  thoughts  when  she  was  alone  or  in  bed,  and 
many  a  night  she  would  wake  up  to  see  the  moon 
streaming  through  her  window,  and  turn  to  her 
thoughts  for  company.  Every  Sunday  she  put  her 
room  in  order,  and  talked  with  the  little  spirit  that 


l8  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

lived  there,  in  very  much  the  grown-up  way  that  her 
father  talked  to  her.  Though  at  times  she  shook 
her  head  despondently  because  her  room  was  in  dis- 
order, and  though  the  lock  was  not  always  strong 
enough  to  keep  the  badness  shut  up,  there  was  al- 
ways Father  to  consult  about  putting  better  things 
in  the  drawer,  and  Mother  to  help  clear  away  cob- 
webs from  the  nooks  and  corners  where  the  bad- 
ness lay  hidden,  and  an  earnest,  ardent  little  girl, 
who  was  beginning  to  have  high  thoughts  and  noble 
purposes,  and  her  own  opinion  of  men  and  things. 


CHAPTER    II. 

A    SIMPLE    LIFE. 

[EN  Louisa  was  nearly  ten  years  old,  Mr. 
Alcott  went  to  England  where  he  met  a 
great  many  people  who  agreed  with  his 
peculiar  ideas  of  education  and  of  living. 
For  a  long  time  he  had  been  thinking  of  a  plan  which 
would  enable  a  large  number  of  people  to  live  un- 
der the  same  roof  in  absolute  harmony  and  brotherly 
love.  It  was  to  be  a  little  community,  each  member 
of  which,  by  the  work  of  his  or  her  hands,  was  to 
add  a  share  to  the  "  family  "  support.  Their  watch- 
words were  to  be  love  and  purity ;  simple  living  and 
high  thinking  were  to  mark  their  daily  lives.  In 
his  great,  loving  mind,  arose  a  picture  of  this  ideal 
home,  and  he  presented  it  so  beautifully  to  the  eyes 
of  his  friends  that  they  became  enthusiastic  and 
many  promised  to  join  him  in  this  scheme. 

One  of  these,  a  Mr.  Lane,  came  back  to  America 
with  Mr.  Alcott,  and  for  many  months  he  made 
his  home  with  the  Alcott  family,  while  plans  were 
discussed  and  kindred  spirits  were  drawn  into  the 
experiment.  After  much  talk  they  decided  to  secure 
a  small  estate  of  about  a  hundred  acres,  suitable  for 
19 


20  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

agriculture  and  fruit  growing,  and  this  they  found 
at  last  near  the  village  of  Harvard,  Mass.,  called  no 
doubt  after  that  same  John  Harvard  who  gave  his 
name  to  the  college  at  Cambridge.  This  property 
was  situated  most  beautifully  on  a  hillside  sloping 
to  the  river,  with  lovely  views  to  the  west,  while 
in  the  background  rose  the  towering,  tree-covered 
summit  of  Prospect  Hill.  The  eager  philosophers 
named  the  place  Fruitlands  in  anticipation  of  har- 
vests to  come,  and  from  Miss  Alcott  herself,  in  a 
clever  little  story  called  "  Transcendental  Wild 
Oats,"  we  have  the  following  account  of  the  journey 
of  the  Alcott  family  to  their  new  home: 

"  On  the  first  day  of  June,  184 — ,  a  large  wagon, 
drawn  by  a  small  horse  and  containing  a  motley 
load,  went  lumbering  over  certain  New  England 
hills  with  the  pleasing  accompaniment  of  wind,  rain, 
and  hail.  A  serene  man,  with  a  serene  child  upon 
his  knee,  was  driving,  or  rather  being  driven,  for  the 
small  horse  had  it  all  his  own  way.  A  brown  boy, 
with  a  William  Penn  sort  of  countenance,  sat  be- 
side him,  firmly  embracing  a  bust  of  Socrates.  Be- 
hind them  was  an  energetic-looking  woman,  with 
a  benevolent  brow,  satirical  mouth,  and  eyes  full  of 
hope  and  courage.  A  baby  reposed  upon  her  lap,  a 
mirror  leaned  against  her  knee,  and  a  basket  of 
provisions  danced  about  at  her  feet,  as  she  struggled 
with  a  large,  unruly  umbrella.  Two  blue-eyed  lit- 
tle girls,  with  hands  full  of  childish  treasures,  sat 
under  one  old  shawl,  chatting  happily  together." 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  21 

There  was  no  road  leading  to  the  house,  which 
could  not  be  seen  that  rainy  afternoon  through  the 
blur  of  the  landscape,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
large  wagon  and  the  small  horse  floundered  help- 
lessly in  the  mud  many  times  on  the  journey,  until 
they  drew  up  at  last  before  the  old  red  farmhouse 
which  was  to  be  their  home,  just  as  a  beautiful 
rainbow  broke  through  the  gray  sky  at  the  close  of 
the  day.  So,  looking  on  this  as  an  omen  of  good 
cheer,  the  little  girls  sprang  from  the  wagon  in  high 
spirits,  and  the  older  people  followed,  with  baskets, 
bundles,  umbrella,  and  baby.  The  mirror  had  long 
ago  met  its  fate  with  a  crash. 

There  was  a  glimmer  of  light  shining  from  the 
windows  of  the  old  red  house,  but  there  was  no 
furniture  as  yet,  so  the  tired  Alcott  family  sat 
around  on  blocks  of  wood,  and  enjoyed  a  supper  of 
roasted  potatoes,  brown  bread  and  water,  and  went 
to  bed — Heaven  knows  where  or  how — for  history 
has  left  no  record  of  that  first  night  at  Fruitlands. 

It  must  have  been  a  queer  change  for  the  three  lit- 
tle girls.  Baby  May,  of  course,  was  too  young  to 
think  much  about  her  surroundings,  and  Lizzie,  hap- 
py little  soul,  would  have  been  contented  anywhere 
with  those  she  loved  best  around  her.  But  Anna 
and  Louisa  opened  their  blue  eyes  questioningly  and 
sometimes  disapprovingly.  They  loved  the  country, 
and  even  the  surroundings  of  the  house  were  allur- 
ing; the  old  barn,  the  orchard,  the  meadow  lands 
beyond,  and  the  beautiful  grove,  so  full  of  a  dim, 


22  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

religious  calm ;  but  the  regulations  for  everyday  liv- 
ing were  too  much  for  such  independent  youngsters. 
The  rule  of  the  household  was  to  rise  at  dawn  and 
go  to  bed  at  sunset,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  poor 
Louisa  spent  many  wakeful  hours  in  bed,  and  had 
to  recite  poetry  to  lull  herself  to  sleep. 

There  are  many  people  in  the  world  who  are  only 
too  eager  to  laugh  at  the  efforts  of  those  who  try 
to  make  it  better,  and  poor  Mr.  Alcott,  for  all  his 
lofty  ideals,  was  laughed  at  by  friends  and  foes,  who 
stood  apart  to  watch  the  experiment.  Mrs.  Alcott 
did  not  share  her  husband's  dreams  of  simplicity 
and  purity,  but  she  respected  his  wishes  in  regard 
to  the  bringing-up  of  their  little  girls,  whose  healthy 
young  appetites  looked  for  nothing  better  than  the 
fruit  of  the  tree  and  the  products  of  the  earth.  This 
coming  to  Fruitlands,  they  fondly  believed,  was  to 
be  a  perpetual  picnic. 

The  furniture  for  their  new  home  arrived  the 
next  day,  and  then  the  plan  of  living  was  discussed  ; 
of  course  by  the  elders,  the  duty  of  the  young  ones 
was  to  obey. 

Mr.  Lane,  Mr.  Alcott's  English  friend,  made  him- 
self master  of  Fruitlands,  and  proceeded  to  govern 
his  little  colony  with  a  firmness  which  amounted  to 
severity.  During  the  time  he  lived  in  the  Alcott 
household,  before  the  experiment  was  put  into  prac- 
tice, he  had  taught  the  little  girls,  but  he  had  never 
won  their  hearts  nor  gained  their  confidence.  Per- 
haps they  resented  the  calm  manner  in  which  he 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  23 

thrust  their  clever  father,  whom  they  adored,  into 
the  background,  while  he  decided  what  should  or 
should  not  be  done. 

The  question  of  clothes  was  the  very  first  thing 
to  be  discussed.  Mr.  Alcott  suggested  linen,  and 
his  idea  was  adopted  at  once,  as  it  was  summer  and 
nobody  thought  of  the  cold  weather.  Mr.  Lane 
said  that  nothing  must  be  used  which  caused  wrong 
or  death  to  man  or  beast,  and  as  silk  was  made  by 
the  killing  of  the  silkworms,  wool  by  robbing  the 
sheep  of  their  coats,  and  cotton  by  the  labor  of 
slaves,  linen  was  all  that  was  left.  The  entire 
"  family  "  wore  tunics  and  trousers  of  brown  linen. 
The  women's  skirts  were  longer,  and  their  straw 
hat-brims  were  wider  than  the  men's,  and  that  was 
the  only  difference  in  costume.  As  to  shoes,  no  one 
could  think  at  first  of  anything  but  leather.  Bark, 
wood,  or  some  durable  fabric  might  be  invented  in 
time,  but  those  who  wished  might  go  barefooted. 
Here  Mrs.  Alcott  had  a  word :  "  I  never  will,  nor 
my  girls  either,"  she  said  firmly.  The  four  little 
girls  must  have  presented  a  strange  picture  in  such 
attire,  but  they  played  and  romped  quite  happily,  for 
the  lack  of  pretty  clothes  was  the  least  of  their  wor- 
ries. What  to  eat,  or  at  least  what  not  to  eat,  was 
a  much  more  serious  question. 

Poor  Mrs.  Alcott  wrung  her  capable  hands  in 
despair  when  she  took  command  of  their  grim-look- 
ing kitchen  and  the  responsibility  of  their  daily 
bill  of  fare.  She  had  eleven  in  the  family,  after- 


24  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

wards  increased  to  sixteen,  and  her  larder  contained 
"  cakes  of  maple  sugar,  dried  peas  and  beans,  barley 
and  hominy,  meal  of  all  sorts,  potatoes  and  dried 
fruit."  Milk,  butter,  cheese,  tea,  and  meat  were  for- 
bidden, and  salt  and  spices  were  looked  upon  as 
useless  luxuries.  Now  what  could  the  best  of  cooks 
do  under  those  circumstances  ?  If  Mrs.  Alcott  had 
not  been  blessed  with  a  wonderful  disposition  and 
power  of  endurance,  she  could  never  have  pulled 
through  the  experiment,  but  having  lived  on  a  vege- 
table diet  for  many  years,  she  managed  to  give  her 
hungry  nestlings  the  following  rich  fare  during 
these  days : 

For' Breakfast — Unleavened  bread,  porridge,  and 
water. 

For  Dinner — Bread,  vegetables,  and  water. 

For  Supper — Bread,   fruit,  and  water. 
Fancy  four  jolly  little  girls  pinned  down  to  such 
food  day  after  day,  with  no  "  extra  best "  for  Sun- 
days! 

Tn  those  days  there  was  no  kerosene  oil;  what 
was  used  in  the  lamps  was  made  of  some  animal 
substance,  and  the  wise  ones  decreed  that  no  oil 
should  be  used  until  some  vegetable  oil  or  wax  was 
discovered,  but,  after  several  experiments,  Mrs.  Al- 
cott rebelled  again.  Evening  was  her  only  time  of 
rest,  and  she  could  then  mend  the  torn  dresses,  and 
darn  the  stockings  of  her  little  girls.  So  "  Mother's 
Lamp  "  became  a  fixture,  while  the  wise  men  who 
ruled  at  Fruitlands  sat 'out  in  the  moonlight,  when 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  25 

there  was  a  moon,  and  talked  over  their  plans  and 
hopes;  but  we  may  be  pretty  certain  that  when  it 
rained,  some  of  them  clustered  round  that  same  des- 
pised lamp,  glad  of  its  genial  rays. 

The  farmers  had  the  hardest  time  of  all;  they 
labored  entirely  with  their  hands,  spading  and  hoe- 
ing, until  blisters  and  aching  backs  made  a  plow 
absolutely  necessary ;  then,  one  of  the  "  brothers  " 
brought  a  yoke  of  oxen  from  his  farm.  "  So,"  Miss 
Alcott  writes,  "  the  philosophers  thought,  until  it 
was  discovered  that  one  of  the  animals  was  a  cow, 
and  Moses  confessed  that  he  '  must  be  let  down 
easy,  for  he  couldn't  live  on  garden  sarse  entirely.'  " 
But  time  pressed,  the  work  must  be  done,  "  so  the 
meek  cow  was  permitted  to  wear  the  yoke,  and  the 
recreant  '  brother '  continued  to  enjoy  forbidden 
draughts  [of  milk]  in  the  barn,  which  dark  pro- 
ceeding caused  the  children  to  regard  him  as  one 
set  apart  for  destruction." 

There  were  only  two  women  at  Fruit  lands,  Mrs. 
Alcott  and  Miss  Anna  Page,  who  gave*  the  children 
music  lessons.  She  is  described  by  Miss  Alcott  in 
after  life  as  "  a  stout  lady  of  mature  years,  senti- 
mental, amiable  and  lazy."  In  Louisa's  childish 
journal  she  expresses  herself  more  forcibly :  "  I  had 
a  music  lesson  with  Miss  P.  I  hate  her,  she  is  so 
fussy." 

This  lady  either  could  not  or  would  not  help  with 
the  household  drudgery,  and  on  one  occasion  when 
asked  how  many  beasts  of  burden  were  on  the  place, 


26  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Mrs.  Alcott  replied,  "  Only  one  woman."  The 
placid  Miss  Page  laughed  with  the  others  at  the 
joke,  but  still  she  did  not  "  lend  a  hand."  She  left 
very  soon  under  the  most  humiliating  circum- 
stances; she  had  been  caught  by  one  of  the  children 
eating  the  tail  of  a  fish  at  a  neighbor's  house !  Her 
terrible  conduct  was  reported  and  she  was  severely 
scolded,  whereupon  she  packed  up  bag  and  baggage 
and  departed  in  high  dudgeon. 

Anna  and  Louisa  put  their  sturdy  little  shoulders 
to  the  wheel  and  "  helped  mother  "  between  study 
hours.  Here  are  some  samples  of  their  daily  life, 
taken  from  Louisa's  journal  written  during  that  first 
year,  1843,  when  she  was  ten  years  old: 

"  September  ist. — I  rose  at  five  and  had  my  bath ; 
I  love  cold  water !  Then  we  had  our  singing  lesson 
with  Mr.  Lane.  After  breakfast  I  washed  dishes, 
and  ran  on  the  hill  till  nine,  and  had  some  thoughts 
— it  was  so  beautiful  up  there.  Did  my  lessons — 
wrote  and  spelt  and  did  some  sums;  and  Mr.  Lane 
read  a  story,  '  The  Judicious  Father.'  .  .  .  Father 
asked  us  what  was  God's  noblest  work.  Anna  said 
men,  but  I  said  babies.  Men  are  often  bad;  babies 
never  are.  We  had  a  long  talk  and  I  felt  better 
after  it  and  cleared  up." 

It  is  very  plain  that  Louisa  was  puzzled  over  the 
term  "  men ;  "  babies  evidently,  in  her  small  mind, 
belonged  to  another  order  of  human  beings,  and  it 
cost  her  father  some  trouble  to  explain  to  his  in- 
quiring little  daughter  that  babies  and  men  were 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  27 

really  the  flower  and  fruit  of  the  same  tree.  Louisa 
continues : 

"  We  had  bread  and  fruit  for  dinner.  I  read 
and  walked  and  played  till  supper  time.  We  sang 
in  the  evening.  As  I  went  to  bed  the  moon  came 
up  very  brightly  and  looked  at  me.  I  felt  sad  be- 
cause I  have  been  cross  to-day  and  did  not  mind 
Mother.  I  cried  and  then  I  felt  better  and  said  that 
piece  from  Mrs.  Sigourney,  '  I  must  not  tease  my 
Mother.'  I  get  to  sleep  saying  poetry.  I  know  a 
great  deal." 

"  Thursday,  nth. — Mr.  Parker  Pillsbury  came 
and  we  talked  about  the  poor  slaves." 

This  was  always  an  absorbing  subject  to  Louisa, 
as  it  was  to  every  member  of  the  family.  At  the 
age  of  two,  her  mother  says,  she  showed  a  strong 
leaning  toward  antislavery.  Certain  it  is  that  from 
the  time  a  colored  boy  saved  her  from  drowning 
in  the  Frog  Pond  in  Boston  she  became  a  stanch 
friend  of  the  slaves,  and  had  she  been  a  man  when 
the  war  came,  she  would  gladly  have  marched  to 
battle  for  their  freedom. 

She  speaks  of  a  run  in  the  woods  that  same  day, 
where  she  played  being  a  horse  and  had  a  lovely 
time  with  Anna  and  Lizzie.  They  played  fairies 
and  made  gowns  and  paper  wings,  and  she  "  flied  " 
highest  of  all.  Dear  little  girl!  She  was  always 
flying  high  in  her  imagination  and  falling  short  in 
her  small  efforts,  and  examining  her  small  sins  in 
her  merciless  child  fashion. 


28  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

On  Sunday,  October  2ist,  she  says:  "  Father  and 
Mr.  Lane  have  gone  to  New  Hampshire  to  preach. 
It  was  very  lovely." 

We  cannot  help  smiling  and  wondering  if  she 
meant  it  was  lovely  at  Fruitlands  without  the 
preaching.  Anna  and  Louisa  got  supper,  not  such 
hard  work  considering  the  bill  of  fare. 

On  the  8th  of  October,  her  mother's  birthday, 
Louisa  made  a  moss  cross  and  wrote  a  piece  of 
poetry  for  her.  They  had  no  school,  but  played  in 
the  woods  and  got  red  leaves.  In  the  evening  they 
danced  and  sang.  Louisa  read  a  story  about  "  Con- 
tentment "  and  wished  "  that  she  was  rich  and  good 
and  all  were  a  happy  family  this  day." 

"  Tuesday,  October  12th.  —  After  lessons  I 
ironed.  We  all  went  to  the  barn  and  husked  corn, 
it  was  good  fun.  We  worked  till  eight  o'clock  and 
had  lamps.  Mr.  Russell  came.  Mother  and  Lizzie 
are  going  to  Boston.  I  shall  be  very  lonely  with- 
out dear  little  Betty,  and  no  one  will  be  as  good  to 
me  as  Mother.  I  read  in  Plutarch.  I  made  a  verse 
about  sunset : 

Softly  doth  the  sun  descend 

To  his  couch  behind  the  hill, 
Then,  oh,  then  I  love  to  sit 
On  mossy  banks  beside  the  rill. 

Anna  thought  it  was  very  fine;  but  I  didn't  like  it 
very  well." 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  Anna  and  Louisa 
to  do  the  housework,  and  in  the  evening  when  they 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  29 

were  very  tired,  Mr.  Lane  would  ask,  in  a  casual 
way,  a  question  for  discussion,  for  instance :  "  What 
is  man  ?  "  These  weary  little  girls  were  required 
to  answer  intelligently,  after  which  ensued  a  long 
talk,  and  they  went  to  bed  exhausted. 

But  there  were  moments  of  real  joy  for  the  young 
folks,  in  spite  of  many  privations.  Every  event  in 
the  family,  every  celebration  was  a  woodland  fes- 
tival. On  little  May's  third  birthday  she  was  es- 
corted by  the  entire  household  at  Fruitlands,  to  the 
grove  which  was  reserved  for  gala  occasions.  Here 
she  was  crowned  with  flowers,  and  an  ode,  written 
by  her  father,  was  spoken  by  him  in  celebration  of 
the  opening  of  this  paradise. 

Their  gifts  to  one  another  were  always  Nature's 
treasures,  for  money  being  forbidden,  it  would  have 
been  hard  to  secure  anything  else;  and  many  were 
the  dainty  things  the  Alcott  children  learned  to 
make,  and  doubtless  the  pressed  wild  flowers  and 
artistic  efforts  in  moss  gave  just  as  much  pleasure 
as  more  costly  articles.  Then  the  little  girls  had 
their  dolls,  and  much  time  was  happily  passed  in 
working  for  them  and  making  them  gay  clothes, 
quite  unlike  the  sober  linens  they  were  forced  to 
wear. 

And  so  with  plenty  of  work  and  study  and  play, 
the  first  summer  at  Fruitlands  passed  uneventfully 
enough,  and  the  little  girls  were  learning  to  accept 
with  patience  and  cheerfulness  their  very  queer  lot 
in  life. 


30  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

The  days  grew  shorter,  and  the  grain  was  stacked 
ready  to  house.  It  was  not  much  of  a  harvest,  but 
it  had  to  be  brought  in.  Mrs.  Alcott,  always  watch- 
ful for  the  good  of  others,  noticed  that  a  storm  was 
coming  up,  and  she  knew  the  rain  would  ruin  the 
yellow  stacks.  She  had  no  time  to  lose,  and  not  a 
man  on  the  place  to  help  her;  all  were  away  on 
some  higher  mission.  So  she  gathered  her  forces, 
which  consisted  of  Anna,  Louisa,  Lizzie,  Mr.  Lane's 
son  and  herself,  who  were  harnessed  to  clothes  bas- 
kets and  linen  sheets ;  these  were  the  only  teams  she 
could  command,  but  the  plucky  lady  set  out  un- 
daunted, and  got  in  the  grain  just  in  time  to  save 
it  from  destruction. 

Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  her  constant  provision 
and  foresight,  the  little  colony  would  have  gone  to 
pieces  long  before  it  did,  as  it  was  sustained  on 
little  more  than  high  spirits  and  everlasting  hope. 
They  discovered  that  they  could  not  support  them- 
selves on  pure  living,  that  provisions  of  the  simplest 
kind  had  to  be  paid  for,  and  the  use  of  money  being 
forbidden,  it  was  often  found  impossible  to  obtain 
even  the  barest  necessities  of  life  in  any  other  way. 
But  Mr.  Alcott's  philosophy  never  wavered.  He 
was  a  reformer  who  took  his  own  medicine,  and  the 
beautiful  allegories  and  fables  which  he  created  for 
the  education  of  the  young  ones  preached  lessons 
of  patience,  endurance,  and  perseverance,  which 
sank  deep  into  their  childish  hearts  and  helped  them 
through  the  hard  winter  indoors. 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  31 

Yet  even  winter  held  compensations  for  these 
small  philosophers;  there  were  the  long  evenings 
around  the  lamp,  with  father  and  mother,  quite 
alone.  Then  Anna  and  Louisa  would  sew  for  their 
dolls,  and  Mother  would  sew  for  them,  and  Father 
would  read  aloud  from  Plato,  or  Plutarch,  or  from 
dear  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  as  on  one  occasion 
Louisa  mentions  in  her  journal.  Mr.  Lane  was  in 
Boston,  whereat  they  rejoiced.  It  was  not  often 
the  Alcotts  could  talk  among  themselves  of  their 
worries  and  perplexities,  but  on  this  night  the  two 
little  girls  joined  the  family  council  and  there  was  a 
long,  confidential  talk,  for  things  were  looking  very 
dark  for  Fruitlands. 

"  We  all  cried,"  writes  Louisa,  "  Anna  and  I 
cried  in  bed,  and  I  prayed  God  to  keep  us  all  to- 
gether." So  there  must  have  been  some  hint  of 
sending  the  little  girls  away,  for  a  while,  from  all 
this  poverty  and  privation.  It  seemed,  however, 
that  the  separation  had  to  come,  for  Anna  left  home 
soon  after,  and  Louisa  missed  her  dreadfully. 
These  two  little  sisters,  so  near  of  an  age,  were  all 
in  all  to  each  other.  Their  lessons  ran  along  the 
same  lines,  their  journals  recorded  the  same  events, 
each  one  writing  in  her  own  characteristic  fashion. 
Their  numerous  dramas,  or  at  least  melodramas, 
were  the  joint  products  of  their  vivid  imaginations, 
and  these  they  acted  together  in  the  old  barn,  Anna 
preferring  the  sentimental  parts,  and  Louisa  any- 
thing which  required  action  and  dialogue,  even  tak- 


32  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

ing  the  villain's  parts  if  they  filled  these  require- 
ments. So  with  Anna  away,  one  can  well  imagine 
Louisa's  loneliness,  which  at  the  age  of  eleven  she 
expressed  in  this  fashion : 

To  ANNA. 

Sister,  dear,  when  you  are  lonely, 

Longing  for  your  distant  home, 
And  the  images  of  loved  ones 

Warmly  to  your  heart  shall  come, 
Then,  mid  tender  thoughts  and  fancies, 

Let  one  fond  voice  say  to  thee, 
"Ever  when  your  heart  is  heavy, 

Anna,  dear,  then  think  of  me." 

Think  how  we  two  have  together 

Journeyed  onward  day  by  day, 
Joys  and  sorrows  ever  sharing, 

While  the  swift  years  roll  away. 
Then  may  all  the  sunny  hours 

Of  our  youth  rise  up  to  thee, 
And  when  your  heart  is  light  and  happy, 

Anna,  dear,  then  think  of  me. 

Besides  the  journals,  the  children  had  imagina- 
tion books,  in  which  they  were  allowed  to  write 
anything  that  popped  into  their  busy  little  heads, 
and  this  was  a  constant  source  of  delight  to  Louisa, 
who  was  always  thinking  of  something  original, 
and  she  had  arrived  at  an  age  when  she  was  greedily 
drinking  in  knowledge  from  all  sources.  During 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  33 

the  Fruitlands  experiment,  which  lasted  from  her 
tenth  to  her  thirteenth  year,  she  read  Plato,  Socrates, 
Plutarch,  Scott,  Martin  Luther,  Miss  Bremer,  Bet- 
tine's  correspondence  with  Goethe ;  and  "  Philo- 
thea,"  a  story  by  Mrs.  Child,  charmed  her  so  much 
that  the  young  Alcotts  dramatized  it  and  acted  it 
with  much  glory,  under  the  trees.  Every  spot  to 
them  was  a  place  to  act  in;  they  might  have  said 
with  Shakespeare,  "  All  the  world's  a  stage,"  for  no 
nook  or  corner  was  too  sacred  for  their  art.  The 
countless  other  things  she  must  have  read  are  not 
recorded,  but  the  active  brain  was  never  at  rest  in 
waking  hours. 

About  this  time  she  came  into  possession  of  what 
wras,  to  her,  a  kingdom — a  room  of  her  very  own — 
where  she  could  be  alone  whenever  she  liked,  and 
dream  her  dreams,  and  allow  her  wild  fancies  to 
take  shape  and  soar.  The  little  girl  was  a  thing 
of  the  past ;  she  was  now  in  her  teens  and  she  began 
seriously  to  plan  out  her  future.  She  was  old  for 
her  age ;  many  people  thought  her  queer  because  she 
did  not  care  for  girls'  things.  But  she  did  care 
about  being  good  and  trying  to  help  her  mother, 
already  so  sorely  overtaxed. 

The  love  between  the  two  was  very  beautiful. 
Mrs.  Alcott  understood  the  struggles  of  her  way- 
ward little  daughter,  sympathizing  with  the  turbu- 
lent spirit  within  her  which  made  her  so  restless,  so 
eager  to  be  always  doing,  and  the  sweet,  motherly 
notes,  full  of  encouragement  and  advice,  which 


34  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Louisa  often  found  between  the  pages  of  her  jour- 
nal, were  very  comforting.  Here  is  a  sample  of 
their  private  correspondence,  written  before  the  lit- 
tle room  had  become  a  reality: 

"  DEAREST  MOTHER  : 

"  I  have  tried  to  be  more  contented,  and  I  think 
I  have  been  more  so.  I  have  been  thinking  about 
my  little  room,  which  I  suppose  I  never  shall  have. 
I  should  want  to  be  there  about  all  the  time,  and  I 
should  go  there  and  sing  and  think. 

"But  I'll  be  contented 

With  what  I  have  got, 
Of  folly  repented, 

Then  sweet  is  my  lot. 
"  From  your  trying  daughter, 

"  LOUISA." 

"  MY  DEAR  LOUISA  : 

"  Your  note  gave  me  so  much  delight  that  I  can- 
not close  my  eyes  without  first  thanking  you,  dear, 
for  making  me  so  happy,  and  blessing  God,  who 
gave  you  this  tender  love  for  your  mother. 

"  I  have  observed  all  day  your  patience  with  baby, 
your  obedience  to  me,  and  your  kindness  to  all. 
Go  on  '  trying,'  my  child ;  God  will  give  you 
strength  and  courage,  and  help  you  fill  each  day 
with  words  and  deeds  of  love.  I  shall  lay  this  on 
your  pillow,  put  a  warm  kiss  on  your  lips,  and  say 
a  little  prayer  over  you  in  your  sleep. 

"  MOTHER/' 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  35 

The  following  poem  was  written  by  Louisa  at 
the  age  of  eleven,  when  the  poor  people  at  Fruit- 
lands  seemed  to  be  very  low  in  their  minds : 

Silent  and  sad 

When  all  is  glad, 
And  the  earth  is  dressed  in  flowers; 

When  the  gay  birds  sing 

Till  the  forests  ring, 
As  they  rest  in  woodland  bowers. 

Oh!  why  these  tears, 

And  these  idle  fears, 
For  what  may  come  to-morrow? 

The  birds  find  food 

From  God  so  good, 
And  the  flowers  know  no  sorrow. 

If  He  clothes  these, 

And  the  leafy  trees, 
Will  He  not  cherish  thee? 

Why  doubt  His  care — 

It  is  everywhere, 
Tho'  the  way  we  may  not  see. 

Then  why  be  sad, 

When  all  is  glad, 
And  the  world  is  full  of  flowers? 

With  the  gay  birds  sing, 

Make  life  all  spring, 
And  smile  thro'  the  darkest  hours. 

The  seasons  came  and  went,  and  things  got 
worse  and  worse  at  Fruitlands.  One  by  one  the 


36  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

"  family  "  dwindled,  until  finally  Mr.  Lane,  seeing 
there  was  nothing  more  to  gain  in  such  a  venture, 
decided  to  leave  them  and  join  the  Shaker  settle- 
ment, of  which  he  had  heard.  So  the  poor  Alcotts, 
deserted  by  those  who  should  have  fought  it  out 
with  them,  were  left  in  the  old  red  farmhouse,  with 
neither  wood  for  fire,  nor  corn  for  food,  the  com- 
ing winter  staring  them  in  the  face,  with  no  money 
and  scarcely  a  friend  to  whom  they  could  apply  for 
help.  Mr.  Alcott,  worn  out  in  mind  and  body, 
broke  down  at  last,  when  he  found  himself  alone 
and  deserted.  This  wild  scheme  had  cut  him  off 
from  his  friends;  some  laughed,  some  thought  him 
crazy,  others  would  not  help  him  until  he  turned  to 
more  practical  things.  And  now  he  lived  to  know 
how  unpractical  Fruitlands  was,  and  had  been,  from 
the  beginning. 

We  must  live  as  our  neighbors  live ;  we  may  beau- 
tify that  living  as  much  as  we  please,  but  custom 
and  habit  are  sure  to  be  right  in  the  main,  or  the 
majority  would  not  follow  where  they  lead,  and  he 
who  turns  aside  must  either  turn  an  army  with  him, 
or  be  laughed  at  for  his  trouble. 

This  was  the  case  with  Mr.  Alcott,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  his  wife  and  little  girls  he  would  never 
have  outlived  the  disappointment.  The  brave  "  big 
woman "  and  the  four  dear  "  little  women " 
stretched  out  loving  hands,  and  pulled  him  through 
his  despair.  Mrs.  Alcott  wrote  to  her  brother  in 
Boston,  who  promptly  came  to  their  assistance; 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  37 

and  she  sold  all  the  furniture  she  could  spare,  thus 
getting  together  a  little  money.  Then  she  went  to 
Still  River,  the  nearest  village  to  Fruitlands,  .and 
engaged  four  rooms  from  their  good  neighbors,  the 
Lovejoys,  and  on  one  bleak  December  day  the  Al- 
cott  family  emerged  from  the  snowbank  in  which 
the  old  red  farmhouse  lay  hidden.  Their  worldly 
goods  were  piled  on  an  ox-sled,  the  four  girls  on  the 
top,  while  father  and  mother  trudged  arm  in  arm 
behind,  poorer  indeed  in  worldly  goods,  but  richer 
in  love  and  faith  and  patience,  and,  alas,  experience. 

Fruitlands  was  Fruitlands  no  longer ;  Mrs.  Alcott 
rechristened  it  Apple  Slump. 

The  house  where  the  Lovejoys  lived  was  called 
"  The  Brick  Ends,"  a  plain,  square  house,  looking 
from  the  outside  like  one  of  the  toy  houses  of  a 
Noah's  Ark.  The  Alcotts  occupied  one  side  and 
the  Lovejoys  the  other,  and  here  the  little  family 
was  mercifully  housed  and  befriended  during  the 
long  winter,  when  they  regained  their  spirits  with 
their  usual  elasticity.  As  long  as  they  were  all  to- 
gether nothing  really  mattered,  so  great  was  the 
family  tie. 

When  spring  came,  the  Still  River  young  peo- 
ple became  interested  in  their  new  neighbors. 
Gayety  began  with  a  May  party,  with  a  Queen  and 
Maypole,  and  one  of  these  former  children  has 
given  us  an  interesting  account  of  Lizzie's  birthday 
party  on  June  24th.  It  took  place  in  Mrs.  Love- 
joy's  kitchen,  which  was  dressed  with  evergreens 


£20210 


38  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

and  made  a  fitting1  stage  for  the  evening's  entertain- 
ment; her  sitting-room  was  the  dress  circle.  The 
Alcott's  sitting-room  was  ornamented  with  a  small 
tree,  from  the  boughs  of  which  hung  gifts,  not  only 
for  the  birthday  girl,  but  for  each  of  her  guests. 
In  Mrs.  Alcott's  kitchen  was  spread  the  feast.  How 
good  it  was  to  feast  after  all,  if  ever  so  simply! 
There  were  small  cakes,  no  doubt  delicious  if  Mrs. 
Alcott  made  them ;  there  were  cherries  in  profusion, 
and  a  great  birthday  cake  in  the  center.  There  were 
dramatic  entertainments  throughout  the  evening. 
Part  of  an  old  English  play  was  given  by  the  older 
girls;  the  Alcotts  and  the  Gardners  are  particu- 
larly mentioned.  There  were  also  songs  in  costume. 
Anna  was  a  Scotch  laddie  in  bonnet  and  plaid.  But 
Louisa  was  the  star  of  the  evening.  Her  mother 
had  stained  her  face,  arms,  and  ankles,  to  make  her 
look  like  an  Indian  girl,  and  she  was  very  hand- 
some in  the  costume  so  cleverly  contrived  for  her. 
She  sang  some  songs  on  that  occasion  that  our 
mothers  or  our  grandmothers  may  remember,  for 
it  is  sixty  years  since  this  memorable  birthday  feast. 
One  began: 

Wild  roved  an  Indian  girl,  sweet  Alfarata. 

Another : 

The  blackbird  was  singing 

On  Michigan's  shore, 

As  sweetly  and  gayly  as  ever  before. 


A  SIMPLE  LIFE.  39 

She  also  recited,  and  did  character  sketches,  and 
was  pronounced  by  everyone  to  be  the  life  of  Liz- 
zie's party. 

There  were  many  other  festive  occasions  at  Still 
River,  but  they  were  very  poor  and  living  was  hard, 
so  they  determined  to  go  back  to  Concord  and  be- 
gin again,  a  hard  thing  to  do,  but  Mr.  Alcott  was 
brave.  His  possessions  were  few,  but  there  was 
love  enough  in  the  family  to  furnish  a  palace,  and 
indomitable  courage  to  carry  them  through,  so  the 
brave  pilgrims  shouldered  their  burdens  once  more 
and  pushed  on. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    HEART   OF    A    GIRL. 

|ITH  the  return  to  Concord,  life  began  in 
earnest  for  Louisa  and  her  sisters.  The 
little  home  was  very  bare,  for  the  work 
that  came  to  Mr.  Alcott  was  of  the  most 
trifling  kind,  and  Mrs.  Alcott  knew  that  she  must 
stifle  all  feelings  of  pride  if  she  wished  assistance 
from  any  of  their  friends.  She  stopped  at  no  sort  of 
work  which  could  help  them  in  their  scanty  living, 
and  once  back  in  the  old  town  among  familiar  land- 
marks and  familiar  faces,  their  old  friends  came 
around  them  again  and  stretched  forth  kind  hands 
to  pull  them  on  their  feet.  These  friends  were 
among  the  few  who  had  not  entirely  forsaken  them. 
They  had  not  approved  of  the  Fruitlands  experi- 
ment, but  even  though  they  had  smiled  at  its  od- 
dities, they  had  loved  the  simple  kindliness  of  Mr. 
Alcott,  and  welcomed  him  warmly  when  he  came 
back  among  them. 

Foremost  among  these  was  Ralph  Waldo  Emer- 
son, the  philosopher  and  poet,  who  for  many  years 
had  lived  in  Concord,  and  whose  home  was  a  meet- 
ing-place for  the  best  thinkers  and  writers  of  the 
40 


THE  HEART  OP  A  GIRL.  41 

day.  Like  Mr.  Alcott,  he  was  a  reformer,  but  he 
had  the  wonderful  gift  of  persuasion,  convincing 
people  by  his  very  simplicity,  and  so  turning  them, 
gently  and  unconsciously,  into  new  ways. 

This  great  man  represented  the  best  thought  of 
his  time.  He  was  among  the  first  in  New  England 
to  turn  aside  into  broader  paths  of  learning  and  re- 
search. He  became  a  leader  among  such  noted  men 
as  Ellery  Channing,  Thoreau,  Theodore  Parker, 
and  many  others  known  to  fame,  and  his  greatness 
has  seemed  to  live  above  them  all.  Certain  it  is 
that  he  was  loved  by  his  friends,  both  young  and 
old,  and  to-day  his  grave  is  visited  by  people  from 
far  and  near,  who  knew  and  honored  him,  either 
personally  or  through  his  writings. 

From  her  earliest  childhood  Louisa  had  adored 
him.  Her  first  remembrance  of  him  dates  back  to 
the  time  when  she  was  eight  years  old.  She  was 
sent  to  inquire  for  little  Waldo,  who  was  desperately 
ill,  and  Emerson  himself  opened  the  door  to  the 
little  girl.  Something  in  his  face,  so  changed  and 
worn  by  sorrow,  startled  her,  and  she  could  hardly 
stammer  out  her  message.  "  Child — he  is  dead !  " 
was  his  answer,  as  he  closed  the  door  gently,  and 
Louisa,  awed  by  her  first  glimpse  of  a  grief  too 
deep  for  words,  ran  home  with  the  sad  tidings  to 
her  anxious  father  and  mother. 

After  they  came  back  from  Fruitlands,  however, 
she  gives  us  a  brighter  picture : 

"  Later,"  she  writes,  "  when  we  went  to  school 


42  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

with  the  little  Emersons,  in  their  father's  barn,  I 
remember  many  times  when  their  illustrious  papa 
was  our  good  playfellow.  Often  piling  us  into  a 
bedecked  hay  cart,  he  took  us  to  berry,  bathe,  or 
picnic  at  Walden  [Henry  Thoreau's  haunt],  mak- 
ing our  day  charming  and  memorable  by  showing 
us  the  places  he  loved,  the  wood  people  Thoreau 
had  introduced  to  him,  or  the  wild  flowers,  whose 
hidden  homes  he  had  discovered,  so  that  when  years 
afterwards  we  read  of  '  the  sweet  rhodora  in  the 
woods '  and  the  '  burly  dozing  bumblebee,'  or 
laughed  over  *  The  Mountain  and  the  Squirrel,'  we 
recognized  old  friends  and  thanked  him  for  the 
delicate  truth  and  beauty  which  made  them  im- 
mortal for  us  and  others." 

To  the  turbulent,  restless,  half-grown  girl,  the 
calm  philosopher,  with  his  gentle  ways  and  practical 
common-sense,  was  an  anchor  indeed.  In  her 
warm  little  heart  he  was  held  so  sacredly  that  he 
himself  would  have  smiled  at  such  worship.  But 
it  did  Louisa  good;  it  came  to  her  when  her  eager 
young  mind  was  seeking  for  higher  things,  some- 
thing apart  from  the  everyday  cares  and  worries 
of  the  struggling  home. 

She  went  to  him  for  advice  about  her  reading. 
She  used  to  enter  his  library,  no  doubt  in  the  way 
Jo  entered  Mr.  Lawrence's,  and  ask  him  what  she 
should  read.  With  the  blessed  audacity  of  youth, 
she  never  dreamed  that  she  might  be  wasting  his 
valuable  time;  but  no  time,  in  Emerson's  opinion, 


THE  HEART  OF  A  GIRL.  43 

was  ever  wasted  in  helping  young  people ;  and  under 
his  guidance  Louisa  began  to  know  the  riches  of 
Shakespeare,  Dante,  Goethe,  and  Carlyle.  She  was 
at  liberty  to  roam  all  around  his  book-lined  walls 
and  select  what  pleased  her  most.  If  it  chanced  to 
be  too  old  for  her,  he  would  say  quietly :  "  Wait  a 
little  for  that ;  meanwhile  try  this,  and  if  you  like  it, 
come  again,"  and  the  girl  would  go  home  to  read 
and  absorb  what  he  had  selected  for  her. 

It  was  after  reading  Bettine's  correspondence 
with  Goethe  that  Louisa  began  to  place  her  father's 
friend  upon  a  pedestal,  and  worship  him  in  true 
romantic  fashion,  as  Bettine  worshiped  Goethe. 
She  fell  to  writing  poetry ;  she  kept  what  she  called 
her  "  heart  journal,"  and  took  to  wandering  in  the 
moonlight  when  she  should  have  been  safe  in  her 
bed.  She  wrote  letters  to  him  full  of  wild  romance, 
but  she  never  sent  them,  though  she  told  him  about 
them  in  after  years,  when  he  and  she  could  laugh 
together  over  her  girlish  fancy.  Once,  she  tells  us, 
she  sat  in  a  tall  cherry-tree  at  midnight  and  sang  to 
the  moon  till  the  owls  scared  her  to  bed;  she  left 
wild  flowers  on  her  "  Master's  "  doorstep,  and  sang 
Mignon's  song  under  his  window,  in  very  bad 
German. 

All  this  sounds  absurd,  but  it  was  sober  earnest 
to  the  little  girl  in  her  teens,  and  Emerson  was  the 
safest  sort  for  a  girl  to  love — so  gentle,  so  serene,  so 
wise,  yet  with  a  simple  everyday  reasoning  power, 
as  sound  at  the  core  as  a  winter  apple. 


44  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

There  was  still  another  teacher  whose  influence 
was  a  great  force  in  Louisa's  life.  This  was  Henry 
Thoreau,  the  poet  and  naturalist.  From  him  the 
Alcott  girls  learned  to  know  the  Nature  they  already 
loved,  and  many  a  happy  day  was  spent  with  him, 
studying  the  secrets  of  the  wild  flowers  and  the 
language  of  the  birds.  Louisa  drank  in  the  delight 
of  it  all,  and  everything  she  wrote  in  later  life  shows 
just  that  loving  knowledge  of  Nature  which  makes 
all  her  stories  so  attractive. 

Thoreau  was  a  genius,  as  much  a  part  of  the  Con- 
cord soil  as  the  trees  and  the  flowers  which  were 
rooted  there.  He  was  born  in  the  placid  little  town, 
and  was  quite  content  to  live  and  die  there.  He  be- 
lieved, with  Emerson,  that  traveling  was  a  "  fool's 
paradise,"  and  when  occasionally  he  did  go  off  on 
brief  excursions,  it  was  only  to  return  far  more 
satisfied  with  Concord  and  its  surroundings.  Many 
people  have  thought  that  because  he  built  himself  a 
hut  in  Walden  forest  and  often  camped  there,  that 
he  lived  the  life  of  a  hermit,  but  this  was  far  from 
true.  Though  he  never  married,  he  lived  very  hap- 
pily in  Concord  with  his  mother,  two  sisters,  and  a 
brother,  whose  untimely  death  was  a  great  sorrow 
to  him. 

It  was  by  the  river  that  the  children  could  almost 
always  find  him,  for  he  loved  the  banks,  so  over- 
grown with  grasses  and  slowly  wandering  through 
the  town.  He  would  guide  his  boat  through  its 
many  windings,  he  would  bathe  in  its  waters,  skate 


THE  HEART  OF  A  GIRL.  45 

over  its  frozen  surface,  or  perhaps  gather  from  its 
shores  or  inlets  some  rare  plant  whose  secrets  he 
wanted  to  know.  He  walked,  too,  long  tramps  of 
miles  and  miles,  and  it  is  from  him,  no  doubt,  that 
Louisa  learned  to  love  such  active  exercise.  It 
was  twenty  miles  from  Concord  to  Boston,  and 
many  a  time  the  sturdy  girl  trudged  the  distance, 
often  we  may  suppose  in  Thoreau's  company,  and 
then  the  walk  would  be  delightful,  for  there  was  no 
blade  of  grass,  nor  flower,  nor  tree,  that  was  not 
known  to  the  gentle  woodsman,  and  the  birds,  the 
squirrels,  and  the  insects  were  his  comrades. 

From  such  a  teacher  the  children  of  Concord 
learned  the  poetry  of  Nature,  and  loved  the  poet  who 
made  the  flowers  speak,  and  the  trees  whisper 
among  their  tall  branches ;  who  talked  with  the  chip- 
munks and  called  the  birds  about  him  as  he  sat 
silent  on  the  river  bank;  who  paddled  his  canoe 
with  Indian  skill  and  coaxed  the  very  fishes  up  to 
the  surface  to  feed  out  of  his  hand. 

Concord  was  just  the  place  for  hearty,  simple 
girls  like  these;  breathing  history  at  every  step, 
there  was  something  homelike  and  delightful  in  its 
surroundings,  and  it  was  always  remarkable  for  the 
number  of  happy  young  people  who  might  be  seen 
in  the  winter,  skating  on  the  hardened  snow  through 
the  pine  woods,  and  in  the  summer,  bathing  or 
boating  in  the  river,  the  Concord,  to  which  Thoreau 
gave  its  Indian  name,  Muskataquid  (the  Grass- 
grown),  and  which  has  found  its  way  into  many  of 


46  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Miss  Alcott's  stories.  It  was  the  scene  of  Amy's 
skating  disaster  in  "  Little  Women,"  and  Laurie 
pitched  Camp  Lawrence  upon  its  smiling  shores, 
while  "  Aunt  Jo  "  had  it  comfortably  near  dear  old 
Plumfield  for  the  benefit  of  "  Little  Men,"  and  the 
boys  and  girls  of  Harmony  Village,  where  "  Jack 
and  Jill*'  lived,  must  have  used  this  same  river  on 
the  picnic  which  winds  up  the  story,  Harmony  Vil- 
lage, of  course,  being  only  another  name  for  Con- 
cord. In  the  Alcotts'  day  there  were  masquerades 
on  its  placid  waters ;  gay  barges,  full  of  historic 
characters  in  costume,  glided  down  stream,  and 
sometimes  savages  in  their  war-paint  darted  from 
the  lily-fringed  banks  and  attacked  the  gay  mas- 
queraders.  On  the  anniversary  of  the  Battle  of 
Lexington,  the  farmers  who  began  the  Revolution 
would  sometimes  return  "  to  masquerade  with  their 
fair  descendants." 

To  Louisa  this  river  brought  joy  untold;  many  a 
long  afternoon  we  can  picture  her  wandering  off 
by  herself  to  enjoy  the  beauty  and  the  silence  of  it 
all.  Full  of  life,  and  talkative  as  she  was,  there 
was  nothing  she  loved  so  well  as  the  vast  stillness  of 
a  great  solitude,  and  if  there  was  a  mysterious 
whispering  among  the  pines  in  the  forest,  why,  so 
much  the  better ;  her  vivid  imagination  peopled  it  at 
once  and  she  was  never  lonely. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  she  came  into  prom- 
inence as  a  story-teller.  The  woods  and  the  na- 
ture studies  gave  her  material,  and  the  "  audience  " 


THE  HEART  OF  A  GIRL.  47 

consisted  of  little  Ellen  Emerson,  who  listened  spell- 
bound to  the  tales  of  the  flowers.  These  stories, 
each  quaint  and  fanciful,  were  collected  several  years 
later  and  published  under  the  title  of  "  Flower 
Fables." 

There  were  no  special  girls'  schools  in  those  days ; 
there  was  an  unusual  number  of  "  barn  schools," 
however,  and  some  enterprising  young  teacher 
would  borrow  her  neighbor's  barn,  collect  the  neigh- 
boring children,  secure  what  boxes  and  benches  she 
could  for  seats  and  desks,  and  "  establish "  her 
school.  This  was  usually  in  the  summer  time,  and 
Louisa  and  her  sisters  attended  one  or  two.  When 
they  grew  older,  Anna  and  Louisa  held  "  barn 
schools  "  of  their  own.  But  there  were  other  and 
more  attractive  uses  for  the  barns.  Wherever  they 
chanced  to  be,  whether  at  Fruitlands  or  Concord, 
the  old  barn  was  the  scene  of  many  dramatic  tri- 
umphs. Whatever  the  trials  of  everyday  life,  they 
could  escape  from  them  into  a  world  of  romance  in 
the  barn;  there  they  could  revel  in  luxury  and 
splendor,  and  Louisa  and  Anna  could  act  to  their 
hearts'  content.  This  was  great  sport  and  all  the 
Concord  young  people  enjoyed  it. 

There  were  the  three  Emerson  children,  Ellen, 
Edith,  and  Edward ;  the  three  Hawthorne  children, 
Una,  Julian,  and  Rose;  the  Alcott  girls  and  many 
other  friends,  whose  talents,  great  or  small,  were 
called  upon  at  need.  Louisa  at  an  early  age  wrote 
the  most  romantic  plays;  one  of  them  we  have  all 


48  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

read  in  "  Little  Women,"  but  there  are  many  others 
which  have  been  collected  into  book  form  under  the 
title  of  "  Comic  Tragedies,"  and  are  extremely  inter- 
esting, if  only  to  show  how  the  girl's  mind  was 
teeming  with  its  hidden  fancies,  and  these  plays 
were  produced  with  wonderful  success.  The  cos- 
tumes were  marvelous ;  the  two  older  girls  and  Mrs. 
Alcott  were  clever  in  contriving  something  out  of 
nothing.  A  scrap  found  its  uses ;  a  red  scarf,  a 
long  cloak,  a  big  hat  with  a  plume  stolen  from 
some  departed  bonnet,  looked  positively  regal  on 
the  barn  stage;  scenery  was  nothing  to  these  art- 
ists, who  made  castles,  enchanted  forests,  caves, 
or  ladies'  bowers  on  demand.  Barns,  too,  were 
delightful  theaters,  because  of  their  well-known 
advantages;  one  could  make  desperate  but  safe 
leaps  from  the  beams,  and  could  disappear  on 
short  notice  into  the  mangers,  and  there  were 
"  wings  "  in  unexpected  corners  that  could  be 
used  with  effect. 

Some  time  before  the  Fruitlands  experiment, 
Mrs.  Alcott's  father,  Colonel  May,  died,  and  left  her 
a  small  amount  of  money  which  she  determined  to 
invest  in  a  home.  It  would  at  least  be  a  roof  over 
their  heads  while  they  were  struggling  for  a  living. 
Mr.  Emerson,  on  being  consulted,  advised  the  pur- 
chase of  a  house  in  Concord,  and  generously  came 
to  her  help  with  a  gift  of  five  hundred  dollars.  With 
this  she  bought  the  place  known  as  Hillside,  which 
afterwards  became  famous  as  the  home  of  the  "  Lit- 


THE  HEART  OF  A  GIRL.  49 

tie  Women,"  and  later  as  the  residence  of  the  Haw- 
thornes. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  was  another  whose  life  and 
writings  greatly  influenced  Louisa.  The  handsome, 
shy  man  was  at  his  best  with  children,  and  his 
stories  held  the  girl  spellbound,  as  they  have  held 
many  other  girls  and  boys  as  well  as  men  and 
women  from  that  day  to  this.  She  pored  over  his 
books,  the  more  weird  and  fanciful  holding  her  with 
keener  interest,  and  love  and  admiration  for  the 
writer  took  root  in  her  heart,  and  grew  with  her 
growth. 

But  in  spite  of  the  delights  of  Concord,  Louisa 
was  beginning  to  feel  the  weight  of  the  family  trou- 
bles. She  saw  her  father  struggling  day  by  day, 
earning  a  little  here  and  there  by  the  work  of  his 
hands,  when  his  talents  as  a  teacher  were  running  to 
waste.  She  saw  her  mother  carrying  burdens  too 
heavy  for  her,  and  this  hurt  her  even  more.  A  noble 
purpose  took  root  in  that  loyal  Alcott  heart  of  hers, 
to  mend  their  broken  fortunes  and  to  give  to  this 
dear,  devoted  mother  the  comforts  which  had  been 
denied  her  for  so  many  years. 

She  was  only  a  girl,  and  the  way  was  dark  before 
her  and  full  of  obstacles.  There  were  so  few  paths 
open  to  the  girls  of  her  day ;  teaching  seemed  to  be 
the  only  thing,  and  Mr.  Emerson's  barn  was  the 
scene  of  her  first  experiment.  This  did  not  pay 
very  handsomely  and  could  not  support  a  fair-sized, 
healthy  family.  In  summer  they  could  get  along 


50  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

somehow,  but  in  winter  the  struggle  was  hard  in- 
deed, until  at  last  a  kind  friend,  passing  through 
Concord,  discovered  how  badly  things  were  going 
and  promised  to  find  employment  for  Mrs.  Alcott, 
if  she  would  come  to  Boston.  So  once  again  the 
family  changed  its  home.  In  1848,  they  were  set- 
tled in  Boston,  where  Mrs.  Alcott  became  a  visitor 
to  the  poor,  in  the  employ  of  a  few  benevolent  soci- 
eties, and  also  kept  an  intelligence  office.  This  was 
a  valuable  experience  for  both  mother  and  daugh- 
ters. 

Mr.  Alcott,  whose  flow  of  language  was  always 
wonderful,  began  to  hold  conversations  on  his  fa- 
vorite subjects,  and  drew  about  him  a  small  circle 
of  thoughtful  people.  This  was  congenial  work  for 
him,  though  very  small  pay,  but  his  employment 
made  them  all  happy,  and  the  Alcotts  were  notably 
a  family  who  gave  more  than  they  received.  His 
talks,  when  they  turned  on  the  ancient  poets  and 
philosophers,  were  most  interesting  and  instructive, 
especially  to  young  people,  over  whom  he  had  great 
influence,  but  Mrs.  Cheney,  who  has  so  carefully 
edited  Miss  Alcott's  "  Life,  Letters  and  Journals," 
tells  us  "  his  peculiar  theories  of  temperament  and 
diet  never  failed  to  call  out  discussion  and  opposi- 
tion." 

"  One  of  my  earliest  recollections  of  Louisa,"  she 
writes,  "  is  on  one  of  these  occasions  when  he  was 
emphasizing  his  doctrine  that  a  vegetable  diet  would 
produce  unruffled  sweetness  of  temper  and  disposi- 


THE  HEART  OF  A  GIRL.  51 

tion.  I  heard  a  voice  behind  me  saying  to  her 
neighbor :  '  I  don't  know  about  that.  I've  never 
eaten  any  meat,  and  I'm  awful  cross  and  irritable 
very  often.'  " 

The  Alcotts  stood  little  chance  of  growing  rich  or 
even  reasonably  comfortable ;  they  were  generous  in 
the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  often  depriving  them- 
selves to  give  help  and  comfort  to  others.  The  well- 
known  story  of  carrying  their  breakfast  to  a  starv- 
ing family  is  so  sweetly  described  in  the  second 
chapter  of  "  Little  Women,"  that  it  is  better  read 
there.  Another  time  they  lent  their  dinner  to  a 
neighbor  who  at  short  notice  had  to  entertain  dis- 
tinguished guests. 

"  Another  time,"  writes  Miss  Alcott,  "  one  snowy 
Saturday  night,  when  our  wood  was  very  low,  a 
poor  child  came  to  beg  a  little,  as  the  baby  was  sick 
and  the  father  on  a  spree,  with  all  his  wages.  My 
mother  hesitated  at  first,  as  we  also  had  a  baby; 
very  cold  weather  was  upon  us,  and  a  Sunday  to  be 
got  through  before  more  wood  could  be  had.  My 
father  said  :  '  Give  half  our  stock  and  trust  in  Provi- 
dence; the  weather  will  moderate  or  wood  will 
come.'  Mother  laughed,  and  answered  in  her  cheery 
way :  '  Well,  their  need  is  greater  than  ours,  and  if 
our  half  gives  out  we  can  go  to  bed  and  tell  stories.' 
So  a  generous  half  went  to  the  poor  neighbor,  and 
a  little  later  in  the  evening,  while  the  storm  still 
raged  and  we  were  about  to  cover  our  fire  to  keep  it, 
a  knock  came,  and  a  farmer  who  usually  supplied 


52  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

us  appeared,  saying  anxiously :  '  I  started  for  Bos- 
ton with  a  load  of  wood,  but  it  drifts  so,  I  want  to 
go  home.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  me  drop  the 
wood  here ;  it  would  accommodate  me  and  you  need 
not  hurry  about  paying  for  it'  '  Yes/  said  Father, 
and  as  the  man  went  off  he  turned  to  Mother  with 
a  look  that  much  impressed  us  children  with  his 
gifts  as  a  seer :  '  Didn't  I  tell  you  wood  would  come 
if  the  weather  did  not  moderate  ?  '  Mother's  mot- 
to was  *  Hope  and  keep  busy,'  and  one  of  her  say- 
ings, '  Cast  your  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  after 
many  days  it  will  come  back  buttered.'  " 

There  is  another  tale  of  a  tramp  who  boldly  asked 
Mr.  Alcott  for  a  loan  of  five  dollars.  Mr.  Alcott 
searched  in  his  pockets,  but  a  ten  dollar  bill  was  all 
he  could  find.  "  I  haven't  what  you  want,"  he  said 
in  his  gentle  way,  "  but  take  this  and  pay  me  when 
you  can."  With  a  grin  the  man  went  off,  and  Mr. 
Alcott  was  laughed  at  by  his  friends,  who  discov- 
ered that  the  tramp  was  a  man  of  bad  character  and 
they  felt  he  would  never  return.  They  were  mis- 
taken, however;  something  in  this  open-handed 
generosity  must  have  touched  the  hardened  sinner, 
for  he  returned  the  amount  in  a  short  time,  much 
to  the  surprise  of  everyone,  and  Mr.  Alcott's  satis- 
faction. 

Thus,  giving  much,  receiving  little,  finding  it 
hard  to  make  ends  meet,  but  happy  in  one  another, 
despite  the  short  lengths,  the  Alcott  children  grew 
in  strength  and  sweetness.  They  had  learned  many 


THE  HEART  OF  A  GIRL.  53 

serious  lessons  on  their  short  life  journey,  but  the 
seeds  of  patience  and  endurance  had  been  planted 
in  their  loyal  young  hearts,  and  already  Louisa's 
hopes  and  ambitions  were  eager  to  try  their  wings 
outside  of  the  family  nest. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

SEEKING   A    VOCATION. 

|  HE  four  little  women  paused  now  in  their 
pilgrimage  to  take  breath  and  look  about 
them.  Two  of  them  were  now  ready  to 
begin  work,  the  other  two  were  old 
enough  to  fill  their  places  in  the  home  life  and  "  help 
mother  "  as  Anna  and  Louisa  had  done;  and  here 
it  is  well  for  us  to  pause  and  look  at  these  girls, 
about  to  take  their  first  flight  in  the  world.  During 
their  life  in  Boston  things  were  a  little  easier;  a 
small  though  regular  income  came  to  them  through 
Mrs.  Alcott's  work,  and  they  were  surrounded  by 
friends  and  relatives  who  were  kind  in  many  ways, 
but  the  two  older  girls  felt  the  need  of  adding  their 
small  share  to  the  family  support. 

They  missed  the  delights  of  Concord;  Boston 
was  a  good  place  to  work  in — not  to  think  in. 
Among  the  hills  and  woods  of  their  beloved  little 
town  it  was  different,  but  in  Boston  "  the  bustle  and 
dirt  and  change  send  all  lovely  images  and  restful 
feelings  away,"  Louisa  wrote  in  her  journal  when 
she  was  seventeen,  adding  farther  on,  "  I  see  now 
what  Nature  did  for  me,  and  my  '  romantic  tastes,' 

54 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  55 

as  people  called  that  love  of  solitude,  and  out-of- 
door  life,  taught  me  much." 

Upon  Anna  the  changes  pressed  lightly.  Of  a 
calm,  sweet,  serious  nature  like  her  father,  she  took 
things  as  they  came,  unquestioningly,  uncomplain- 
ingly, content  if  they  were  all  together,  unhappy  at 
the  separations  that  interrupted  their  home  life. 
She  was  never  worried  about  herself  or  her  short- 
comings, as  Louisa  was ;  she  suited  her  daily  needs 
to  others,  and  expanded  in  the  moral  sunshine 
which  the  Alcott  family  managed  always  to  have 
about  them.  No  matter  what  their  circumstances, 
they  had  high  purposes  in  life,  and  though  Mrs.  Al- 
cott might  occasionally  yield  to  a  quick  temper,  and 
Mr.  Alcott  to  hours  of  depression,  and  the  girls' 
moods  might  vent  themselves  in  harmless  bickering, 
the  real  harmony  of  their  daily  life  was  sound  and 
undisturbed. 

Mrs.  Alcott  had  three  simple  rules  for  the  guid- 
ance of  her  girls :  "  Rule  yourself.  Love  your 
neighbor.  Do  the  duty  which  lies  nearest  to  you." 

Anna  found  them  easy  to  follow ;  her  disposition 
reminded  one  of  the  fair,  placid  river  beside  which 
they  dwelt  for  so  many  years :  clear,  limpid,  deep  in 
many  places,  glancing  in  the  sunshine,  full  of  rip- 
ples when  a  storm  passed  over  it  Usually  smiling 
and  smooth  of  surface,  there  were  swift  undercur- 
rents and  strong  emotions  behind  the  serenity. 

Quite  different  was  Louisa ;  the  undercurrent  was 
very  strong,  and  the  turbulent,  restless  young  soul 

5 


56  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

struggled  against  it.  Her  hardest  lesson  was  to 
rule  herself.  From  her  earliest  childhood  she  had 
encountered  this  difficulty,  and  all  through  her  early 
life  her  impatient  spirit  waged  constant  warfare 
against  the  poverty  which  seemed  so  hard  to  con- 
quer. When  her  mind  ran  to  poetry,  as  it  often 
did  at  this  period,  the  result  showed  itself  in  rhyth- 
mical sermons  on  cheerfulness,  patience,  or  faith. 
Here  is  one  which  the  readers  of  "  Little  Women  " 
no  doubt  remember ;  full  of  faults,  it  is  yet  vigorous, 
atune  to  the  motion  of  the  strong  young  arms,  up 
and  down  the  washboard ;  it  is  called : 

A  SONG  FROM  THE  SUDS. 

Queen  of  my  tub,  I  merrily  sing, 

While  the  white  foam  rises  high, 
And  sturdily  wash  and  rinse  and  wring, 

And  fasten  the  clothes  to  dry; 
Then  out  in  the  free  fresh  air  they  swing, 

Under  the  sunny  sky. 
I  wish  we  could  wash  from  our  hearts  and  souls 

The  stains  of  the  week  away, 
And  let  water  and  air  by  their  magic  make 

Ourselves  as  pure  as  they  ; 
Then  on  the  earth  there  would  be  indeed 

A  glorious  washing-day  ! 
Along  the  path  of  a  useful  life 

Will  heartsease  ever  bloom? 
The  busy  mind  has  no  time  to  think 

Of  sorrow,  or  care,  or  gloom  ; 
And  anxious  thoughts  may  be  swept  away 

As  we  busily  wield  a  broom. 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  57 

I  am  glad  a  task  to  me  is  given, 

To  labor  at  day  by  day ; 
For  it  brings  me  health,  and  strength,  and  hope, 

And  I  cheerfully  learn  to  say, 
"  Head,  you  may  think ;  Heart,  you  may  feel ; 

But  Hand,  you  shall  work  alway." 

Head  and  heart  and  hand,  they  were  engines  of 
energy  to  this  impetuous  young  person ;  the  head 
and  the  heart  would  have  galloped  away  with  her, 
had  not  a  wise  mother's  foresight  trained  the  hands 
to  the  needs  of  every  day.  Louisa  at  seventeen 
could  wash  and  iron,  cook  and  scrub,  sweep  and 
dust,  darn  and  mend,  "  turn  "  and  sew.  There  was 
plenty  of  "  turning  "  to  do,  no  doubt,  for  a  really 
new  dress  was  a  rare  occurrence  among  the  Alcott 
girls.  Kind  relatives  and  friends  were  constantly 
supplying  them  with  good  things  which  their  clever 
fingers  fashioned  into  very  respectable  additions  to 
their  wardrobes,  and  that  interesting  chapter  in  "  An 
Old-Fashioned  Girl,"  where  Polly  presides  at  the 
making  over  of  Fan's  last  year's  gowns,  is  doubly 
interesting  because  so  thoroughly  true  to  life.  Pol- 
ly tells  the  story  of  a  little  checked  silk  which  was 
sent  to  her  mother  in  a  lot  of  other  discarded  finery ; 
this  was  carefully  washed  to  look  as  good  as  new, 
and  after  much  fussing  and  planning,  a  complete 
gown  was  cut  out,  coming  short  only  by  half  of 
one  sleeve;  the  family  was  in  despair,  but  at  last, 
by  clever  matching  and  patching,  the  remaining 
scraps,  ten  in  all,  were  neatly  put  together  into 


58  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

the  under  half  of  the  sleeve,  and  no  one  was  the 
wiser. 

They  must  have  had  funny  bundles  sent  to  them 
by  friends  who  had  not  learned  the  art  of  giving 
wisely,  and  had  it  not  been  that  the  calls  of  the 
drama  claimed  the  finery  that  fell  to  their  portion, 
the  "  shabby  silk  bonnets  and  dirty  flounced  gowns  " 
would  have  gone  the  way  of  all  such  rubbish.  The 
following  nonsense  verse  must  have  relieved  Lou- 
isa's mind  on  one  of  these  occasions: 

To  poor  country  folks, 

Who  haven't  any  clothes, 
Rich  folks  to  relieve  them, 

Send  old  lace  gowns  and  satin  bows. 

Their  uncle,  the  Rev.  Samuel  J.  May,  lived  in 
Boston  and  was  very  kind  to  his  sister's  family. 
The  girls  loved  him,  for  he  resembled  their  mother 
in  many  ways.  He  was  a  brave,  simple,  single- 
hearted  gentleman,  whose  word  was  a  power  among 
the  best  people  in  the  city,  and  he  was  courageous 
enough  to  preach  antislavery  from  his  pulpit  at  a 
time  when  the  mere  whisper  of  such  a  thing  was 
considered  treason.  It  is  little  wonder  that  Louisa 
and  her  sisters,  brought  up  under  the  shadow  of  the 
coming  struggle,  should  become  sturdy  abolition- 
ists in  those  Boston  days.  The  men  and  women 
with  whom  they  were  thrown,  whom  they  were 
taught  to  revere  and  to  follow  as  guides,  were 
stanch  advocates  of  freedom  for  the  slave. 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  59 

There  was  Mr.  Alcott  himself,  who  read  Socrates 
and  Plato  and  preached  the  philosophy  of  free- 
dom ;  and  Emerson,  who  broke  the  fetters  of  the 
thinking  world  and  preached  practical  freedom  for 
everyone  of  high  or  low  degree;  and  Thoreau,  the 
woodsman,  whose  love  of  freedom  drove  him  to  the 
forests  and  the  streams,  preached  of  it  in. his  elo- 
quent way  when  thoughtful  people  met  to  protest 
against  the  growing  evil  of  the  times ;  and  Theodore 
Parker,  the  famous  Unitarian  minister,  whose 
grandfather,  Captain  John  Parker,  commanded  the 
handful  of  men  who  faced  the  British  regulars  on 
Lexington  Green  when  they  were  ordered  to  lay 
down  their  arms  and  disperse. 

Theodore  Parker  exerted  a  great  influence  on 
Louisa ;  his  cheerful  religion  preached  to  her  better 
than  a  dozen  sermons.  He  always  drew  around 
him  young  men  and  women  who  needed  the  sort  of 
help  which  he  could  give,  and  he  gave  it  freely. 
There  was  Lydia  Maria  Child,  one  of  the  best- 
known  writers  of  her  day,  a  woman  of  powerful 
mind,  who  gave  herself  heart  and  soul  to  the  cause. 
There  were  Ellery  Channing,  William  Garrison,  and 
Wendell  Phillips,  who  not  only  came  into  the  lives 
of  the  young  Alcotts  and  visited  in  their  home,  but 
kindled  their  eager  minds  by  their  eloquence  in  pub- 
lic speaking. 

Of  the  two  younger  Alcott  girls  there  is  little  to 
say  at  this  period.  Beth  or  Betty  or  Lizzie  or  Bess, 
as  she  was  variously  called  by  the  different  mem- 


60  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

bers  of  her  family,  at  fourteen,  was  a  sweet  retir- 
ing girl,  very  much  as  Miss  Alcott  describes  her  in 
"  Little  Women." 

"  There  are  many  Beths  in  the  world,  shy  and 
quiet,  sitting  in  corners  till  needed,  and  living  for 
others  so  cheerfully  that  no  one  sees  the  sacrifices 
till  the  little  cricket  on  the  hearth  stops  chirping, 
and  the  sweet  sunshiny  presence  vanishes,  leaving 
silence  and  shadow  behind."  This  is  the  tribute  Miss 
Alcott  paid  this  dear  sister  in  the  early  pages  of 
"  Little  Women,"  ten  years  after  her  death.  She 
was  not  only  fond  of  music,  but  she  showed  great 
talent  for  the  piano,  and  many  said  had  she  lived,  her 
gift  would  have  soared  above  the  gifts  of  her  sisters. 

May's  artistic  efforts  began  at  babyhood ;  every- 
thing that  came  within  her  reach  from  the  time  she 
was  old  enough  to  hold  a  pencil  was  either  sketched 
or  copied.  She  was  decided  in  her  tastes  and  good 
to  look  upon,  a  golden-haired  child  with  blue  eyes, 
the  marring  feature  being  a  rather  flat  nose,  which 
caused  her  much  sorrow,  and  we  can  fancy  the  many 
painful  attempts  she  made  to  squeeze  it  into  proper 
shape  with  the  help  of  a  clothespin. 

The  first  two  summers  of  their  stay  in  Boston 
were  spent  in  their  uncle's  roomy  house,  with  many 
comforts  about  them,  which  they  enjoyed,  and  yet 
it  is  here  that  Louisa  had  some  moments  of  mourn- 
ful reflection.  "  Seventeen  years  have  I  lived,"  she 
writes  in  her  journal,  "  and  yet  so  little  do  I  know, 
and  so  much  remains  to  be  done  before  I  begin  to  be 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  61 

what  I  desire — a  truly  good  and  useful  woman.  In 
looking  over  our  journals,  father  says,  '  Anna's  is 
about  other  people ;  Louisa's  about  herself ! '  That  is 
true,  for  I  don't  talk  about  myself ;  yet  must  always 
think  of  the  wilful,  moody  girl  I  try  to  manage,  and 
in  my  journal  I  write  of  her  to  see  how  she  gets  on. 
Anna  is  so  good,  she  need  not  take  care  of  herself, 
and  can  enjoy  other  people." 

Louisa  was  evidently  aware  of  her  good  looks,  for 
she  says,  "  If  I  look  in  my  glass,  I  try  to  keep  down 
vanity  about  my  long  hair,  my  well-shaped  head, 
and  my  good  nose." 

But  these  were  not  her  only  beauties;  she  was 
tall  and  graceful  as  a  deer,  the  hair  she  speaks  of 
was  a  beautiful  glossy  chestnut  mane,  her  complex- 
ion was  clear  and  full  of  color,  and  her  blue  eyes 
were  deep-set  and  most  expressive.  "  My  quick 
tongue  is  always  getting  me  into  trouble,"  she  goes 
on,  "  and  my  moodiness  makes  it  hard  to  be  cheer- 
ful, when  I  think  how  poor  we  are,  how  much  worry 
it  is  to  live,  and  how  many  things  I  long  to  do — 
I  never  can.  So  every  day  is  a  battle,  and  I'm  so 
tired  I  don't  want  to  live,  only  it's  cowardly  to  die 
till  you  have  done  something."  How  many  a  girl 
with  life  and  health  and  energy  has  felt  this  strange 
depression  with  much  less  reason  behind  it,  for  poor 
Louisa  was  passing  through  a  hard  experience  at 
this  time. 

In  a  mad  fit  of  charity,  the  Alcotts  opened  their 
gates  to  some  poor  immigrants  who  camped  in  their 


62  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

garden  for  a  day.  There  was  smallpox  raging 
among  them,  and  the  whole  Alcott  family  caught 
the  disease.  They  had  a  sorry  time  of  it,  especially 
as  they  had  no  doctor,  and  while  the  girls  took  it 
lightly,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alcott  were  very  ill;  every- 
body kept  away  from  them  and  it  was  no  wonder 
that  poor  Louisa  felt  low  in  her  mind. 

Anna  went  away  for  a  change  after  her  illness, 
leaving  a  school  of  twenty  in  Louisa's  charge,  a 
great  responsibility  for  a  girl  of  seventeen,  but  it 
was  a  fine  experience,  and  though  as  usual  she 
missed  Anna  and  shed  many  tears  over  her  ab- 
sence, she  managed  to  work  her  way  straight  into 
the  hearts  of  her  children;  she  told  them  fascinat- 
ing stories,  which  made  the  lessons  pleasanter  and 
showed  at  the  same  time  her  wonderful  power  of 
interesting  them.  Indeed,  she  succeeded  so  well 
with  her  pupils  that  she  began  to  think  that  teach- 
ing would  be  her  chosen  work;  but  in  this  she  was 
mistaken;  she  was  to  have  many  experiences  be- 
fore she  found  her  niche. 

Though  encouraged  about  her  school,  she  found 
it  hard  work  even  when  Anna  came  back  to  help 
her.  "  I  get  very  little  time  to  write  or  think,"  she 
says  in  her  journal,  "  for  my  working  days  have 
begun  and  when  school  is  over  Anna  wants  me,  so 
I  have  no  quiet.  A  little  solitude  is  good  for  me. 
In  the  quiet  I  see  my  faults  and  try  to  mend  them, 
but  deary  me,  I  don't  get  on  at  all !  " 

A  year   later  her  ambition   pointed   in  another 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  63 

direction.  Always  interested  in  dramatic  things, 
she  launched  out  into  the  writing  of  most  wonder- 
ful plays,  in  which  Anna  gave  much  assistance.  Of 
course  they  were  all  written  in  the  loftiest,  most 
high-flown  language,  with  stilted  sentiments,  tales 
of  chivalry,  of  impossible  adventures,  all  dealing 
with  lords  and  ladies,  fairies  and  spirits  of  good 
and  evil ;  no  commonplace  hero  or  heroine  blots  the 
pages,  the  triumph  of  virtue  over  vice  is  the  in- 
variable climax.  These  plays,  many  of  which  have 
been  preserved,  are  all  extremely  girlish,  just  what 
one  would  imagine  from  the  pen  of  a  girl  of  sev- 
enteen, full  of  a  girl's  dreams  and  fancies,  glowing 
with  romance,  quite  apart  from  the  everyday  life 
about  her.  Full  of  trap-doors  and  secret,  haunted 
chambers  were  her  castles,  deep  and  dark  and 
moldy  were  her  dungeons;  the  dismal  clank  of 
chains  announced  her  captives,  her  ladies  were 
ethereal  in  their  loveliness,  her  knights  were  always 
superb  specimens  of  manhood,  her  villains  das- 
tardly to  the  heart's  core.  There  were  mysteries 
and  concealments  and  absurd  situations,  but  the 
dialogue  was  clever  and  the  story  was  put  together 
in  a  way  to  delight  a  youthful  audience,  for  they 
were  constantly  acting  dramas  in  which  Louisa  and 
Anna  took  the  principal  parts.  In  the  acting  they 
were  ably  assisted  by  some  intimate  friends  who 
had  remarkable  talent,  and  as  Mrs.  Alcott  encour- 
aged the  private  theatricals,  they  made  a  success  in 
their  small  way.  This  inspired  the  Alcott  girls 


64  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

to  higher  ambitions — they  were  wild  to  go  on  the 
stage. 

"  Anna  wants  to  be  an  actress,  and  so  do  I," 
writes  Louisa.  "  We  could  make  plenty  of  money 
perhaps,  and  it  is  a  very  gay  life.  Mother  says  we 
are  too  young  and  must  wait." 

A  sagacious  lady  was  Mrs.  Alcott,  who  knew  her 
young  daughters  better  than  they  knew  themselves. 
Louisa  liked  tragic  plays  and  determined  to  be  as 
great  as  Mrs.  Siddons ;  there  was  no  halfway  about 
Louisa,  and  she  was  really  talented.  One  of  her 
relatives,  Dr.  Windship  of  Roxbury,  took  a  great 
interest  in  her  dramatic  work  and  offered  one  of  her 
plays,  "  The  Rival  Prima  Donnas,"  to  Mr.  Barry  of 
the  Boston  Theater.  He  liked  it  very  much  and  de- 
termined to  put  it  on  the  stage,  Mrs.  Barry  and 
Mrs.  Wood  consenting  to  take  the  principal  char- 
acters. There  was  some  hitch  in  the  arrangements 
and  it  was  never  produced  in  public,  but  after  this 
Louisa  had  a  free  pass  to  the  theater,  which  she 
enjoyed  immensely. 

Great  as  was  her  desire  to  go  on  the  stage,  she 
was  sensible  enough  to  listen  to  her  mother's  wise 
counsel  and  keep  from  the  dangers  and  temptations 
of  such  a  life.  Clever  as  she  was,  she  had  yet  to 
learn  that  cleverness  alone  does  not  make  a  great 
actress,  and  she  was  not  a  girl  to  be  satisfied  with 
any  but  the  first  rank. 

Miss  Alcott  herself,  in  her  novel,  "  Work,"  which 
is  based  chiefly  on  her  own  experiences,  says  of 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  65 

Christie  Devon,  the  heroine :  "  She  had  no  talent 
except  that  which  may  be  developed  in  any  girl 
possessing  the  lively  fancy,  sympathetic  nature,  and 
ambitious  spirit  which  make  some  girls  naturally 
dramatic.  This  was  to  be  only  one  of  many  ex- 
periences which  were  to  show  her  her  own  weak- 
ness and  strength,  and  through  effort,  pain,  and  dis- 
appointment, to  fit  her  to  play  a  nobler  part  on  a 
wider  stage." 

This  was  written  long  after  Louisa's  passion  for 
the  stage  had  died  a  natural  death.  She  acted  many 
times  privately,  and  often  publicly  for  charity,  and 
always  with  a  certain  charm  and  delicacy.  She 
gave  parts  of  Dickens  extremely  well,  and  read 
Shakespeare  pleasingly.  She  was  in  her  element 
with  character  sketches  and  imitations,  but  the 
divine  fire  she  certainly  had  not,  else  she  never 
would  have  given  up  her  dreams,  nor  would  her 
mother  have  counseled  her  to  do  so. 

Mrs.  Alcott  was  ever  eager  for  her  children's 
advancement,  and  if  on  their  life  journey  they  could 
see  a  short  cut  to  prosperity,  hers  was  the  hand  to 
send  them  on  their  way;  all  their  youthful  schemes 
and  plans  received  encouragement,  and  though 
many  of  their  Puritan  friends  might  have  viewed 
the  stage  with  disfavor,  Mrs.  Alcott  had  no  such 
prejudice.  Indeed,  her  own  work  in  a  broad  field 
among  the  poor  gave  her  foresight  and  wisdom 
above  the  average  woman  of  her  time. 

The  keeping  of  an  intelligence  office  in  those  days 


66  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

did  not  mean  what  it  does  now;  the  best  ladies  in 
the  land  were  employed  in  this  work,  and  the  poor 
women  who  applied  for  employment  were  in  many 
instances  quite  as  good.  Honest  labor  was  never 
degrading  to  these  proud  Alcotts,  and  the  secret  of 
Louisa's  later  success  was  that  in  those  early  years 
she  hesitated  at  nothing  which  could  aid  in  the  sup- 
port of  the  family. 

They  were  living  at  this  time  in  a  small  house  on 
High  Street.  Anna  and  Louisa  taught,  Lizzie  kept 
house,  May  went  to  school,  and  Mr.  Alcott  wrote 
and  talked  when  he  could  get  classes  or  "  conversa- 
tions." His  influence  was  great,  especially  among 
young  people,  but  somehow  while  they  were  willing 
to  listen  to  words  of  wisdom,  they  were  not  always 
so  willing  to  pay  for  them.  The  Alcott  home,  poor 
though  it  was,  was  full  of  love,  and  a  shelter  for 
the  homeless  and  loveless  who  knocked  at  their 
doors,  for  these  great-hearted  people  had  an  endless 
supply  of  sympathy  for  all  in  need. 

In  1852,  her  first  story  came  out,  for  which  she 
received  the  sum  of  five  dollars.  It  was  written  in 
Concord  when  she  was  sixteen,  and  in  her  own  opin- 
ion it  was  great  trash;  she  read  it  to  her  sisters, 
who  praised  it,  not  knowing  the  author ;  and  when 
she  proudly  announced  the  name,  there  was  true 
rejoicing. 

They  were  constantly  having  little  jubilees ;  some- 
thing was  always  "  turning  up,"  and  the  disappoint- 
ments were  seldom  spoken  of.  Occasionally  a 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  67 

moan  was  made  when  experience  proved  too  hard  a 
teacher,  and  one  of  these  experiences  Louisa  put 
into  a  story  called  "  How  I  went  out  to  Service." 

A  gentleman  came  to  Mrs.  Alcott's  intelligence 
office  in  search  of  a  companion  for  his  father  and 
sister.  Only  light  work  was  to  be  required  of  her, 
and  as  Mrs.  Alcott  could  think  of  no  one  to  fill 
the  position,  Louisa  suggested  herself,  and  went  off 
happily  to  her  new  work,  secure  in  the  belief  that 
she  would  receive  all  kindness  and  respect;  but  her 
two  months'  trial  changed  her  opinion,  and  she 
began  to  understand,  from  the  unkindness  with 
which  she,  a  girl  of  high  spirit  and  intelligence,  was 
treated,  why  it  was  that  many  preferred  working  in 
factories  or  shops  rather  than  be  subjected  to  what 
she  suffered. 

Another  experience,  not  quite  so  painful,  was  yet 
pathetic  enough  in  a  whimsical  way.  In  January, 
1853,  Mr.  Alcott  started  for  the  West  to  try  his 
luck  with  lecturing;  he  went  off  full  of  hope,  leav- 
ing Mrs.  Alcott  with  several  boarders,  Anna  teach- 
ing at  Syracuse,  and  Louisa  with  a  home  school  of 
ten  pupils.  This  was  his  opportunity,  and  the  whole 
family  eagerly  awaited  the  result.  The  girls  built 
many  castles ;  at  last  "Father"  would  be  appreciated, 
and  after  the  manner  of  young,  hopeful  spirits,  they 
actually  began  to  bank  on  the  lecture  money.  In 
February  he  returned,  arriving  late  at  night,  and 
rousing  the  family  by  a  sudden  peal  of  the  bell. 
Up  they  all  rose  from  their  beds,  five  capped  and 


68  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

nightgowned  figures.  Mrs.  Alcott  led  the  way  and 
ecstatically  crying,  "  My  husband !  "  flung  herself 
into  the  arms  of  the  returned  wanderer,  while  the 
four  girls  embraced  whatever  portion  of  the  be- 
loved form  they  could  get  hold  of.  Then  he  was 
borne  off  and  fed  and  warmed  and  cuddled,  before 
a  word  was  said  about  the  success  of  the  lecture 
tour.  He  talked  a  good  deal,  but  only  about  the 
pleasant  things,  until  asked  suddenly : 

"  Well,  what  did  they  pay  you  ?  " 

With  a  pathetic  smile  he  opened  his  pocketbook 
and  took  out  one  dollar. 

"  Only  that,"  he  answered.  "  My  overcoat  was 
stolen  and  I  had  to  buy  a  shawl.  Many  promises 
were  not  kept  and  traveling  is  costly,  but,"  he 
added,  with  a  serenity  which  neither  time  nor  mis- 
fortune could  shatter,  "  I  have  opened  the  way  and 
another  year  shall  do  better." 

"  I  shall  never  forget,"  writes  Louisa,  "  how 
beautifully  Mother  answered  him,  though  the  dear, 
hopeful  soul  had  built  so  much  on  his  success ;  but 
with  a  beaming  face  she  kissed  him,  saying :  '  I  call 
that  doing  very  well;  since  you  are  safely  home, 
dear,  we  won't  ask  anything  more.'  Anna  and  I 
choked  down  our  tears  and  took  a  little  lesson  in 
real  love,  which  we  never  forgot,  nor  the  look  that 
the  tired  man  and  tender  woman  gave  one  another. 
It  was  half  tragic  and  comic,  for  Father  was  very 
dirty  and  sleepy  and  Mother  in  a  big  nightcap  and 
funny  old  jacket." 


SEEKING  A  VOCATION.  69 

And  so  with  "  tips  and  downs,"  plenty  of  frolick- 
ing, an  overflow  of  hard  times,  a  glimpse  of  men 
and  women  that  even  the  beloved  haunts  of  Concord 
could  never  have  given  her,  Louisa  passed  those 
seven  years  of  her  life  that  saw  the  girl  grow  into 
a  capable  young  woman,  sturdy  of  hand  and  heart, 
ready  to  do  and  dare  for  those  she  loved,  full  of  the 
dreams  and  ambitions  of  hopeful  youth.  A  typi- 
cal American  maiden  of  those  ante-bellum  days, 
with  the  strong  New  England  spirit  of  intolerance 
for  slavery,  a  desire  to  do  right  in  the  face  of  all 
obstacles,  a  determination  to  win  from  life,  by  her 
own  effort,  the  fortune  which  could  not  come  to  her 
in  any  other  way. 


CHAPTER    V. 

AFLOAT    AS    AN    AUTHOR. 

(HE  proudest  moment  of  Louisa's  life 
was  the  day  which  saw  the  publication 
of  "  Flower  Fables."  The  book  breathed 
of  the  woods  and  the  wild  things  that 
grew  there,  for  she  had  learned  the  flower  secrets 
from  her  old  friend  Thoreau,  and  these  she  told 
to  the  little  Emersons  and  Channings,  as  they 
sat  in  the  Concord  woods,  with  the  asters  and  the 
golden-rod  nodding  to  them  like  friendly  comrades. 
One  may  imagine  the  scene — the  cool,  green 
woodland  stretch,  the  giant  trees  with  the  sunshine 
filtering  through,  making  gold  ripples  in  the  chest- 
nut hair  of  the  tall  girl,  surrounded  by  her  smaller 
companions.  At  first  it  was  only  Ellen  Emerson, 
but  as  the  tales  grew  in  interest,  and  wood-sprites, 
water-sprites  and  fairy  queens  danced  in  the  sylvan 
glade,  her  audience  increased  and  listened  breath- 
lessly to  the  stories  which  preached  of  love  and  joy 
and  youth  and  happiness,  in  the  language  of  the 
flowers  and  birds. 

The  true  poetry  of  the  girl's  nature  came  to  the 
surface  in  these  woodland  hours.     One  story,  "  The 
70 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  71 

Fairy  Spring,"  must  have  been  about  her  sister 
May,  for  the  little  heroine  is  described  as  "  a  pretty 
child,  with  hair  like  sunshine,  eyes  blue  as  the  sky, 
cheeks  like  the  wild  roses  nodding  to  her  on  either 
side  of  the  way,  and  a  voice  as  sweet  as  the  babbling 
brook  she  loved  to  sing  with.  May  was  never  hap- 
pier than  when  alone  in  the  woods,  and  every  morn- 
ing with  her  cup  and  a  little  roll  of  bread  in  her 
basket,  she  wandered  away  to  some  of  her  favorite 
nooks  to  feast  on  berries,  play  with  the  flowers,  talk 
to  the  birds,  and  make  friends  with  all  the  harm- 
less wood  creatures,  who  soon  knew  and  welcomed 
her." 

There  in  the  woods  she  listened  to  the  brook  and 
for  the  first  time  understood  what  it  sang  as  it 
flowed  along. 

I  am  calling,  I  am  calling, 

As  I  ripple,  run  and  sing. 
Come  up  higher,  come  up  higher, 

Come  and  find  the  fairy  spring. 
Who  will  listen,  who  will  listen 

To  the  wonders  I  can  tell 
Of  a  palace  built  of  sunshine, 

Where  the  sweetest  spirits  dwell? 
Singing  winds  and  magic  waters, 

Golden  shadows,  silver  rain, 
Spells  that  make  the  sad  heart  happy, 

Sleep  that  cures  the  deepest  pain. 
Cheeks  that  bloom  like  summer  roses, 

Smiling  lips  and  hours  that  shine, 


72  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Come  to  those  who  climb  the  mountain, 
Find  and  taste  the  fairy  wine. 

I  am  calling,  I  am  calling, 
As  I  ripple,  run  and  sing  ; 

Who  will  listen,  who  will  listen, 
To  the  story  of  the  Spring? 


Who  could  resist  the  rhythm  of  these  simple 
lines?  Surely  not  the  Concord  children  for  whom 
the  woods  awoke  in  those  happy  days.  Small  won- 
der, then,  that  Louisa  loved  the  book  which  breathed 
of  the  trees  and  the  flowers,  and  sent  her  back  to 
the  pleasant  memories  of  her  childhood. 

"  Flower  Fables  "  was  her  Christmas  gift  to  her 
mother ;  she  sent  it  with  the  following  note : 

"  December  25,  1854. 
"  DEAR  MOTHER  : 

"  Into  your  Christmas  stocking  I  have  put  my 
'  first-born/  knowing  that  you  will  accept  it  with 
all  its  faults  (for  grandmothers  are  always  kind), 
and  look  upon  it  merely  as  an  earnest  of  what  I  may 
yet  do;  for  with  so  much  to  cheer  me  on,  I  hope  to 
pass  in  time  from  fairies  and  fables  to  men  and 
realities.  Whatever  beauty  or  poetry  is  to  be  found 
in  my  little  book  is  owing  to  your  interest  in,  and 
encouragement  of,  all  my  efforts  from  the  first  to 
the  last,  and  if  ever  I  do  anything  to  be  proud  of, 
my  greatest  happiness  will  be  that  I  can  thank  you 
for  that,  as  I  may  do  for  all  the  good  there  is  in 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  73 

me,  and  I  shall  be  content  to  write  if  it  gives  you 
pleasure. 

"Jo  is  fussing  about, 

My  lamp  is  going  out. 

"  To  dear  mother,  with  many  kind  wishes  for  a 
Happy  New  Year  and  Merry  Christmas. 

"  I  am  ever  your  loving  daughter, 

"  LOUY." 

Every  blade  of  grass,  every  woodland  flower, 
the  trees,  the  ferns,  the  very  stones,  assumed  per- 
sonalities. No  one  who  could  so  people  her  every- 
day world  with  fairies  could  fail  to  believe  in  them, 
and  the  charm  about  Louisa's  "  Flower  Fables  " 
is  that  one  can  see  childlike  belief  creeping  out  in 
every  story.  Here  is  the  song  of  the  Fairy  Star, 
who  made  the  Rose  bloom  in  spite  of  the  grim  old 
Frost  King : 

Sleep,  little  seed, 

Deep  in  your  bed, 
While  winter  snow 

Lies  overhead. 
Wake,  little  sprout, 

And  drink  the  rain, 
Till  sunshine  calls 

You  to  rise  again. 
Strike  deep,  young  root, 

In  the  earth  below, 
Unfold  pale  leaves, 
Begin  to  grow. 


74  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Baby  Bud,  dance 
In  the  warm  sun  ; 

Bloom,  sweet  rose, 
Life  has  begun. 


Here  she  has  told  the  story  of  the  birth  of  the 
flowers  as  Emerson  would  have  told  it,  with  a 
swinging  measure  of  words,  if  not  in  perfect 
rhythm.  Perhaps  the  tale  of  Queen  Aster  is  best 
known. 

It  seems  that  in  the  meadow  the  government  was 
very  much  upset.  The  Golden  rods  had  ruled  for 
a  great  many  years  and  had  become  very  proud  and 
haughty.  Now  the  roadside  Asters  were  equally 
proud,  and  of  higher  descent,  as  they  came  from 
the  stars  and  were  a  much  larger  tribe  than  the 
Goldenrods,  so  there  was  a  revolution  in  the 
meadow. 

"  In  the  middle  of  this  meadow  stood  a  beau- 
tiful maple,  and  at  its  foot  lay  a  large  rock  over- 
grown by  a  wild  grapevine.  All  kinds  of  flowers 
sprung  up  here,  and  this  autumn  a  tall  spray  of 
goldenrod  and  a  lovely  violet  aster  grew  almost 
side  by  side,  with  only  a  screen  of  ferns  between 
them.  This  was  called  the  palace,  and  seeing  their 
cousin  there  made  the  asters  feel  that  their  turn  had 
come,  and  many  of  the  other  flowers  agreed  with 
them  that  a  change  of  rulers  ought  to  be  made  for 
the  good  of  the  kingdom. 

"  After     much     excitement,    Violet    Aster    was 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  75 

chosen  Queen  and  made  such  a  wise  and  gentle 
ruled  that  even  the  defeated  Prince  Goldenrod 
looked  on  in  admiration,  which  soon  changed  to 
love.  He  sang  love  songs  to  her  under  the  stars, 
and  as  she  leaned  toward  him  to  listen,  he  saw  the 
love-light  in  her  eyes  and  began  his  wooing. 

"  At  his  ardent  words  the  screen  fell  away  from 
between  them,  the  leaves  that  hid  Violet's  golden 
heart  opened  wide  and  let  him  see  how  glad  she 
was  as  she  bent  her  stately  head  and  answered, 
softly : 

"  '  There  is  room  upon  the  throne  for  two ;  share 
it  with  me  as  King,  and  let  us  rule  together;  for  it 
is  lonely  without  love,  and  each  needs  the  other.' 
.  .  .  The  maple  showered  the  rosy  leaves  over 
them,  and  the  old  Rock  waved  his  crown  of  vine 
leaves  as  he  said: 

'This  is  as  it  should  be;  love  and  strength 
going  hand  in  hand,  and  justice  making  the  earth 
glad.'  " 

When  we  reflect  that  into  these  love  stories  of  the 
flowers  Louisa  poured  all  the  romance  in  her  girl- 
ish heart,  we  wonder  why  love  never  played  a 
bigger  part  in  her  own  life.  Her  capacity  for 
loving  was  very  large,  perhaps  too  large  to  tie  it- 
self to  the  all-absorbing  love  of  marriage.  She  was 
so  attractive  that  no  doubt  she  had  many  offers, 
though  only  one  is  recorded.  She  was  absorbed 
in  the  love  of  her  home,  the  love  of  her  country,  the 
love  of  her  work — three  great  passions  which  filled 


76  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

her  life  and  made  her  proud  to  show  the  world  that 
marriage,  beautiful  as  it  is,  is  not  the  only  goal  in 
the  life  of  a  busy,  happy  girl.  No  doubt,  being  a 
true  woman,  had  a  great  love  come  to  her,  she 
would  have  obeyed  its  call,  but  it  never  did,  and  so 
through  the  "  Flower  Fables  "  and  through  every 
book  which  has  appealed  to  her  thousands  of 
readers,  young  and  old,  she  has  scattered  her  little 
romances  with  the  deft  hand  of  one  who  knows  and 
feels.  She  often  laughingly  said  in  later  days  that 
circumstances  had  made  of  her  a  sort  of  universal 
relative — wife,  mother,  husband,  brother,  sister,  son 
and  daughter  all  in  one. 

The  publication  of  "  Flower  Fables  "  was  paid 
for  by  a  friend — Miss  Wealthy  Stevens.  The  edi- 
tion of  sixteen  hundred  sold  very  well,  though 
Louisa  realized  only  thirty-two  dollars  on  the 
whole. 

"  A  pleasing  contrast,"  she  adds  many  years  after, 
"  to  the  receipts  of  six  months  only  in  1886,  being 
eight  thousand  dollars  for  the  sale  of  books  and  no 
new  one ;  but  I  was  prouder  over  the  thirty-two  dol- 
lars than  the  eight  thousand."  Prouder,  perhaps — 
but  not  quite  so  comfortable. 

If  the  publication  of  "  Flower  Fables  "  did  noth- 
ing more,  at  least  it  pointed  out  the  way ;  it  turned 
Louisa's  heart  and  mind  toward  the  goal  that  her 
eyes  could  not  as  yet  see  clearly.  There  was  so 
much  to  do,  so  many  doubts  to  drive  away,  so  many 
daily  needs  to  satisfy,  that  she  was  often  compelled 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  77 

to  turn  aside  from  the  path  that  was  most  alluring. 
Teaching  and  sewing  she  regarded  as  stand-bys, 
and  often  when  her  active  brain  was  "  simmering," 
as  she  called  it,  she  was  tied  to  the  one  or  the  other. 
In  those  days  of  no  sewing  machines,  Louisa  had 
ample  time  while  running  up  a  seam  or  doing  end- 
less hemming  to  think  out  the  many  tales  which 
afterwards  delighted  the  world,  and  from  this  time 
on,  the  demand  for  her  stories  increased,  and  the 
fact  that  she  could  in  that  way  bring  in  the  much- 
needed  money  for  the  family  support,  spurred  her 
to  do  her  best. 

About  this  time  the  desire  for  solitude  was 
strong  upon  her,  so  she  took  to  writing  in  the  gar- 
ret, which  was  the  scene  of  much  meditation  and 
innocent  pleasure.  Here  she  loved  to  bring  her 
favorite  book  and  a  pile  of  apples  to  enjoy  while  she 
read.  When  stories  and  plots  absorbed  her  mind 
there  was  nothing  more  delightful  than  to  mount 
up  away  from  the  world,  and  with  her  papers  scat- 
tered all  about  her  and  pens  and  ink  at  her  com- 
mand, fall  to  work  on  the  stories  which  were  be- 
coming more  popular  every  day.  The  garret 
must  have  been  the  famous  retreat  in  "  Little 
Women,"  whither  Jo  retired  to  read  and  cry 
over  the  "  Heir  of  Redcliffe,"  when  Meg  told 
her  about  the  invitation  to  the  Gardiner's  party, 
a  retreat  which  was  shared  by  a  pet  rat  of  literary 
tastes. 

Later  on,  when  the  fever  for  short  stories  and 


78  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

small  checks  seized  her,  Jo  made  herself  a  scribbling 
costume  with  a  mob  cap,  no  doubt  a  reproduction  of 
Louisa's  own. 

"  Every  few  weeks  she  would  shut  herself  up  in 
her  room,  put  on  her  scribbling  suit  and  '  fall  into 
a  vortex,'  as  she  expressed  it." 

Louisa  decided  not  to  "  waste  even  ink  on  poems 
and  fancies,"  so  the  stories  grew  in  number,  and 
with  the  greater  demand  came  a  better  price.  At 
one  time,  with  forty  dollars  which  she  had  earned, 
she  fitted  out  the  whole  family,  her  own  wardrobe 
being  made  up  of  articles  from  the  cousins  and 
friends. 

Mr.  Alcott  was  most  anxious  to  go  to  England 
again,  this  time  on  a  lecture  tour,  but  his  family 
opposed  such  a  venture.  However,  he  went  to  Con- 
cord to  consult  with  Mr.  Emerson,  and  as  there  is 
no  further  mention  made  of  the  project,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  wise  philosopher  dissuaded  him.  But 
the  whole  family  grew  weary  of  Boston,  they  felt 
stifled  in  the  small  city  houses  and  the  city  atmos- 
phere. As  the  summer  of  1855  approached,  a  pe- 
culiar restlessness  took  possession  of  them;  it 
seemed  impossible  to  make  any  definite  plans. 

"  We  shall  probably  stay  here,"  writes  Louisa, 
"  and  Anna  and  I  go  into  the  country  as  govern- 
esses. It's  a  queer  way  to  live,  but  dramatic,  and  I 
rather  like  it;  for  we  never  know  what  is  to  come 
next."  Later  she  adds :  "  Cousin  L.  W.  asks  me 
to  pass  the  summer  at  Walpole  with  her.  If  I  can 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  79 

get  no  teaching  I  shall  go,  for  I  long  for  the  hills 
and  can  write  my  fairy  tales  there." 

These  were  to  go  into  another  Christmas  book 
she  was  planning ;  she  called  it  "  Christmas  Elves," 
and  her  sister  May  illustrated  it.  Louisa  consid- 
ered it  much  better  than  "  Flower  Fables." 

She  wrote  a  burlesque  lecture  on  "  Woman  and 
her  Position ;  by  Oronthy  Bluggage,"  and  delivered 
it  one  evening  at  the  house  of  a  friend.  It  was 
brimming  over  with  fun  and  Louisa  was  in  her  ele- 
ment, for  she  carried  her  audience  with  her  and  they 
had  a  lively  time  of  it.  She  was  asked  to  give  it 
again  for  money;  indeed,  there  was  always  some 
financial  possibility  looming  up  for  this  clever  and 
original  young  woman.  She  was  very  modest 
about  herself  and  her  achievements,  though  she 
never  underrated  her  powers.  When  her  book  ap- 
peared, she  said  in  her  journal: 

"  My  book  came  out,  and  people  began  to  think 
that  topsey-turvey  Louisa  would  amount  to  some- 
thing after  all,  since  she  could  do  so  well  as  house- 
maid, teacher,  seamstress,  and  story-teller.  Per- 
haps she  may." 

She  went  to  Walpole,  New  Hampshire,  in  June. 
It  was  a  lovely  spot  high  up  among  the  hills,  and 
the  wild  freedom  of  the  place  delighted  her.  She 
ran  and  skipped  like  a  child  in  the  open,  she  loved 
to  burrow  in  the  woods  and  wander  through  the 
splendid  ravines.  She  helped  her  cousin  work  in 
the  garden,  and  the  touch  of  the  fresh  earth  and 


8o  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

the  green  leaves  gave  her  much  pleasure.  Early 
rising  came  naturally  to  her  in  this  keen  country  air. 

"  Up  at  five,"  she  writes,  "  and  had  a  lovely  run 
in  the  ravine,  seeing  the  woods  wake.  Planned  a 
little  tale  which  ought  to  be  fresh  and  true,  as  it 
came  at  that  hour  and  place — '  King  Goldenrod.' 
Have  lively  days — writing  in  A.M.,  driving  in  P.M., 
and  fun  in  eve.  My  visit  is  doing  me  much  good." 

No  one  was  more  dependent  on  good  wholesome 
fun  than  Louisa,  herself  often  the  center  of  it  all. 
She  was  always  in  demand  among  her  relatives  and 
friends,  and  was  a  never-failing  source  of  entertain- 
ment wherever  she  went. 

She  was  so  delighted  with  Walpole  that  her  fam- 
ily caught  her  enthusiasm,  and  decided  for  the  pres- 
ent, to  come  and  live  there ;  it  never  took  the  Alcotts 
long  to  plan  and  decide  things ;  they  were  not  cum- 
bered with  an  overload  of  the  world's  goods,  and 
could  move  from  place  to  place  with  very  little 
trouble  or  expense.  In  this  instance,  they  were 
lucky  enough  to  secure  the  house  of  a  friend,  rent 
free,  and  were  glad  of  the  rest  from  strenuous  work. 
Mr.  Alcott  had  his  garden,  and  the  younger  girls  all 
the  light  and  air  and  freedom  that  they  missed  so 
sadly  in  the  city.  Anna  and  Louisa  were  in  their 
element. 

"  Busy  and  happy  times,"  Louisa  tells  us ;  "  plays, 
picnics,  pleasant  people  and  good  neighbors.  Fanny 
Kemble  came  up,  Mrs.  Kirtland  and  others,  and  Dr. 
Bellows  is  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  We  acted  the 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  8l 

'  Jacobite,'  '  Rivals/  and  '  Bonnycastles,'  to  an  audi- 
ence of  a  hundred  and  were  noticed  in  the  Boston 
papers.  .  .  .  Anna  was  the  star,  her  acting  be- 
ing really  very  fine.  I  did  Mrs.  Malaprop,  Widow 
Pottle,  and  the  old  ladies." 

But  the  summer  passed  all  too  quickly.  Louisa's 
fairy  stories  were  ready  in  September.  This  she 
modestly  believed  would  give  her  ample  time  to 
present  them  for  Christmas  publication.  In  the 
meanwhile  Anna  received  an  offer  from  Dr.  Wil- 
bur, of  Syracuse,  to  teach  at  the  great  idiot  asylum. 
The  gentle,  beauty-loving  girl  shrank  from  accept- 
ing the  position.  Affliction  of  any  kind  tried  her 
spirit,  but  duty  conquered  and  she  determined  to  go. 
She  left  Walpole  in  October,  and  in  November, 
Louisa,  too,  set  forth  to  seek  her  fortune.  Armed 
with  a  small  trunk,  twenty  dollars,  earned  by  stories 
in  the  Gazette,  and  her  manuscripts,  she  received  her 
mother's  blessing  and  turned  her  face  toward  Bos- 
ton one  rainy,  hopeless-looking  day.  Here  her  en- 
thusiasm received  its  first  shower-bath;  her  book 
was,  of  course,  too  lat'e  for  holiday  publication,  so, 
with  Heaven  knows  how  many  secret  tears  of  dis- 
appointment, it  was  laid  away,  while  Louisa  bravely 
trudged  about,  hunting  for  employment — "  teach- 
ing, sewing,  or  any  housework.  Won't  go  home  to 
sit  idle,  while  I  have  a  head  and  a  pair  of  hands." 

It  was  this  indomitable  spirit  that  proved  her 
worth;  the  Alcotts  all  had  it  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  but  there  was  fighting  stuff  in  Louisa  and 


82  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

she  would  not  be  "  downed."  She  had  much  to 
fight  against ;  in  spite  of  literary  ability  and  power- 
ful friends,  the  majority  of  busy  people  still  looked 
askance  at  an  Alcott  who  presumed  to  make  any 
advance  toward  prosperity,  and  the  daughter  of  the 
unworldly  philosopher,  who  preferred  to  be  poor 
all  his  life  rather  than  sacrifice  his  ideals,  had  small 
chance  save  on  her  own  merit. 

Louisa  was  only  twenty-three  when  she  set  out 
alone  for  Boston,  a  mere  girl  still  in  many  ways, 
but  a  life  of  struggle  had  given  her  a  certain  poise, 
a  simple,  direct  way  of  facing  things,  which  was 
one  of  the  lessons  she  had  learned  from  Emerson. 
Whatever  discouragement  she  may  have  felt,  she 
must  have  shown  a  bold,  cheerful  front  to  her  own 
little  world,  for  while  she  was  wondering  how  she 
could  secure  comfortable  board  during  the  winter 
with  twenty  dollars  in  her  pocket  and  no  visible 
means  of  support,  her  cousins,  the  Sewalls,  came 
to  her  rescue  and  offered  her  a  home.  This  she 
accepted  most  gratefully,  paying  for  her  board  by 
quantities  of  sewing,  and,  in  her  spare  time,  writing 
stories,  reviewing  books,  and  trying  to  cheer  Anna 
and  the  home  people  with  long,  gossipy  letters. 
The  family  at  Walpole  were  feeling  the  severe  win- 
ter, and  poor  Anna  was  heartsick  over  her  work 
among  the  idiots. 

In  December,  she  heard  Thackeray  lecture,  but 
her  pleasures  just  then  were  swallowed  up  in  anxi- 
ety for  the  home  people.  She  sent  them  a  box  for 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  83 

Christmas  and  in  a  letter  to  Anna  she  describes  some 
of  the  gifts  in  her  humorous  way. 

"  BOSTON,  December  27th. 

"  DEAREST  NAN  : 

"  I  was  so  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and  hear  that 
all  were  well.  I  am  grubbing  away  as  usual  and 
trying  to  get  money  enough  to  buy  mother  a  nice 
warm  shawl.  I  have  eleven  dollars,  all  my  own 
earning.  ...  I  got  a  crimson  ribbon  for  a  bon- 
net for  May.  I  took  my  straw  and  fixed  it  nicely 
with  some  little  duds  I  had.  Her  old  one  has 
haunted  me  all  winter  and  I  want  her  to  look  neat; 
she  is  so  graceful  and  pretty,  and  loves  beauty 
so  much,  it  is  hard  for  her  to  be  poor  and  wear 
other  people's  ugly  things.  You  and  I  have  learned 
not  to  mind  much;  but  when  I  think  of  her  I  long 
to  dash  out  and  buy  the  finest  hat  the  limited  sum 
of  ten  dollars  can  procure.  She  says  so  sweetly 
in  one  of  her  letters :  '  It  is  hard  sometimes  to  see 
other  people  have  so  many  nice  things  and  I  so  few ; 
but  I  try  not  to  be  envious,  but  contented  with  my 
poor  clothes  and  cheerful  about  it.' 

"  I  hope  the  little  dear  will  like  the  bonnet  and 
the  frills  I  made  her,  and  some  bows  I  fixed  over 
from  some  bright  ribbons  L.  W.  threw  away.  I 
get  half  my  rarities  from  her  rag-bag,  and  she 
doesn't  know  her  old  rags  when  fixed  over.  .  .  . 

"  For  our  good  little  Betty,  who  is  wearing  all 
the  old  gowns  we  left,  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  buy  a 


84  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

new  one  and  send  it,  with  my  blessing,  to  the 
cheerful  saint.  She  writes  me  the  funniest  notes 
and  tries  to  keep  the  old  folks  warm,  and  make 
the  lonely  house  in  the  snowbanks  cheerful  and 
bright. 

"  To  Father  I  shall  send  new  neckties  and  some 
paper ;  then  he  will  be  happy,  and  can  keep  on  with 
the  beloved  diaries,  though  the  heavens  fall. 

"  Don't  laugh  at  my  plans,  I'll  carry  them  out 
if  I  go  to  service  to  do  it.  Seeing  so  much  money 
flying  about,  I  long  to  honestly  get  a  little  and  make 
my  dear  family  more  comfortable.  I  feel  weak- 
minded  when  I  think  of  all  they  need  and  the  little 
I  can  do. 

"  Now  about  you :  Keep  the  money  you  have 
earned  by  so  many  tears  and  sacrifices,  and  clothe 
yourself,  for  it  makes  me  mad  to  know  that  my 
good  little  lass  is  going  round  in  shabby  things  and 
being  looked  down  upon  by  people  who  are  not 
worthy  to  touch  her  patched  shoes  or  the  hem  of 
her  ragged  old  gowns." 

Of  herself  she  writes :  "  My  mite  won't  come 
amiss,  and  if  tears  can  add  to  its  value,  I've  shed 
my  quart — first,  over  the  book  not  coming  out,  for 
that  was  a  sad  blow,  and  I  waited  so  long,  it  was 
dreadful  when  my  castle  in  the  air  came  tumbling 
about  my  ears.  Pride  made  me  laugh  in  public, 
but  I  wailed  in  private,  and  no  one  knew  it.  The 
folks  at  home  think  I  rather  enjoyed  it,  for  I  wrote 
a  jolly  letter.  But  my  visit  was  spoiled,  and  now 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  85 

I'm  digging  away  for  dear  life,  that  I  may  not  have 
come  entirely  in  vain." 

It  was  in  letters  such  as  this  that  the  true  nature 
of  the  girl  shone  forth.  Being  a  young  woman  of 
moods,  Louisa  relieved  her  depression  at  this  time 
by  writing  a  farce,  which  was  taken  by  Mr.  J.  M. 
Field,  to  be  brought  out  in  Mobile,  but  unfortu- 
nately he  died  before  it  made  its  bow  to  the  public. 
Fate  seemed  always  to  lay  a  finger  on  her  dramatic 
productions,  but  the  "  story "  form  of  literature 
was  more  successful.  Even  her  poems  found  a 
market ;  one  on  Dickens's  "  Little  Nell  "  was  pub- 
lished in  the  Courier,  and  after  hearing  Curtis  lec- 
ture on  Dickens,  she  wrote  another  on  "  Little 
Paul."  She  also  received  ten  dollars  for  "  Ber- 
tha," a  story  which  was  well  advertised,  and  an- 
other ten  dollars  for  "  Genevieve,"  which  went  re- 
markably well.  She  planned  a  summer  book  called 
"  Beach  Bubbles,"  which  was  published  story  by 
story  instead  of  in  book  form.  Her  brain  was 
seething  with  plots  and  fancies,  while  her  fingers 
were  tied  to  her  needle,  for  sewing  piled  upon  her 
and  she  was  too  poor  to  refuse  the  work.  One  job 
of  a  dozen  pillow-cases,  a  dozen  sheets,  six  fine 
cambric  neckties,  and  two  dozen  handkerchiefs,  at 
which  she  worked  all  night,  paid  her  only  four  dol- 
lars. Even  the  small  sum  of  five  dollars  for  a 
story  would  have  been  more  profitable  and  less 
wearing. 

Anna  came  home  from  Syracuse  about  this  time, 


86  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

sick  and  worn  out  from  overwork.  She  stopped 
in  Boston,  where  she  and  Louisa  spent  some  happy 
days  together,  visiting  about. 

Writing  in  her  journal,  June,  1856,  she  says: 

"  Home  to  find  dear  Betty  very  ill  with  scarlet  fe- 
ver, caught  from  some  poor  children  mother  nursed 
when  they  fell  sick,  living  over  a  cellar  where  pigs 
had  been  kept.  The  landlord  (a  deacon)  would 
not  clean  the  place  until  Mother  threatened  to  sue 
him  for  allowing  a  nuisance.  Too  late  to  save  two 
of  the  poor  babies  or  Lizzie  and  May  from  the 
fever." 

From  this  illness  Lizzie  never  recovered ;  the 
fever  teft  its  wasting  marks  upon  her.  They  had 
an  anxious  time,  for  it  came  in  its  worst  form,  and 
the  poor  girl  tossed  in  delirium,  while  they  hung 
about  her,  fearful  that  each  paroxysm  would  be 
her  last.  To  those  who  have  read  "  Little 
Women,"  the  "  dark  days,"  when  Beth  had  the 
fever,  carried  their  full  weight  of  woe.  The  blessed 
change,  when  the  fever  broke  at  last,  must  have 
been  vividly  felt  by  the  little  band  watching  each 
labored  breath  that  brought  their  dear  one  back  to 
them,  a  shadow  of  her  bright  happy  self,  to  beam 
among  them  for  a  short  while  longer. 

Louisa  found  her  hands  full  with  nursing  and 
housework,  but  her  brave  heart  never  failed  her, 
and  she  managed  to  write  a  story  a  month  during 
the  summer.  These  stories  are  probably  the  "  rub- 
bish "  she  speaks  of  in  "  Little  Women  "  when  she 


AFLOAT  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  87 

says :  "  '  The  Duke's  Daughter  '  paid  the  butcher's 
bill,  '  A  Phantom  Hand  '  put  down  a  new  carpet, 
and  '  The  Curse  of  the  Coventrys  '  proved  the  bless- 
ing of  the  Marches  in  the  way  of  groceries  and 
gowns." 

"  Little  notice  was  taken  of  her  stories,  but  they 
found  a  market,  and,  encouraged  by  this  fact,  she 
resolved  to  make  a  bold  stroke  for  fame  and 
fortune." 

This  was  Louisa  to  the  life ;  her  stories  may  have 
been  "  rubbish,"  and,  like  her  dramas,  they  may 
have  been  full  of  impossible  situations  but  there 
was  a  high  moral  tone  to  even  the  faultiest,  and 
while  in  later  years  she  may  have  laughed  over  the 
highly  colored  romances,  she  never  had  cause  to 
blush  for  a  single  thought  contained  in  them.  Their 
service  rendered,  the  bills  paid,  "  Genevieve," 
"  Bertha,"  and  the  others  died  natural  deaths,  and 
the  young  author  looked  beyond,  into  a  more  whole- 
some world  of  literature. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

LITTLE    WOMEN  "    GROWN    UP. 

|HE  recovery  of  the  invalid  was  very 
slow,  but  by  the  following  October, 
Louisa,  feeling  that  she  could  once  more 
be  spared,  made  her  plans  to  go  to  Bos- 
ton for  the  winter.  Walpole  was  pleasant  enough 
in  summer,  with  its  visitors,  its  walks  and  its  drives; 
but  when  the  cold  weather  came  it  was  only  a  snow- 
bank where  people  clung  to  their  firesides  in  the 
vain  endeavor  to  shut  out  the  sound  of  the  sharp 
winds  that  howled  round  the  lonely  little  place. 
There  was  nothing  an  active,  energetic  girl  could  do 
there  except  to  fold  her  hands  and  curb  her  impa- 
tience; it  was  not  in  Louisa's  nature  to  do  either. 
She  says  of  herself: 

"  I  was  born  with  a  boy's  spirit  under  my  bib 
and  tucker.  I  can't  wait  when  I  can  work;  so  I 
took  my  little  talent  in  my  hand  and  forced  the 
world  again,  braver  than  before,  and  wiser  for  my 
failures.  ...  I  don't  often  pray  in  words,  but  when 
I  set  out  that  day  with  all  my  worldly  goods  in  the 
little  old  trunk,  my  own  earnings  (twenty-five  dol- 
lars) in  my  pocket,  and  much  hope  and  resolution 


"LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN  UP.  89 

in  my  soul,  my  heart  was  very  full,  and  I  said  to  the 
Lord,  '  Help  us  all,  and  keep  us  for  one  another/ 
as  I  never  said  it  before,  while  I  looked  back  at  the 
dear  faces  watching  me,  so  full  of  love  and  faith 
and  hope." 

It  took  a  very  brave  girl  to  shoulder  her  burden 
just  now,  worn  out  with  a  summer  of  anxiety,  but 
Louisa's  spirits  were  fortunately  elastic,  and  once 
in  Boston,  she  shook  her  gauntlet  in  Dame  For- 
tune's face  and  challenged  the  lady  to  mortal  com- 
bat. 

Her  good  friend,  Mrs.  David  Reed,  who  kept  a 
well-known  boarding-house  on  Chauncey  Street, 
offered  her  an  attic  room  at  three  dollars  a  week 
with  fire  and  board,  an  unusual  price,  but  independ- 
ent Louisa  sewed  for  her  besides.  It  was  a  cozy, 
sunny  little  room,  with  a  stove  and  a  nice  table 
where  she  could  sit  and  write  whenever  she  wished, 
and  she  began  to  hope  great  things  from  the  quiet 
hours  of  uninterrupted  work  she  would  enjoy. 

The  monthly  story  at  ten  dollars  was  still  in  de- 
mand, and  there  was  plenty  of  sewing  to  keep  her 
afloat.  She  also  had  some  hope  that  her  play, 
"  The  Rival  Prima  Donnas,"  might  come  out  at 
last,  and  she  calculated  on  being  able  to  support 
herself  and  help  the  family  besides.  She  was  anx- 
ious also  to  get  some  hours'  work  as  governess,  but 
in  this  she  was  disappointed  at  first,  though  it  came 
after. 

She  began  at  this  time  to  take  a  great  interest 


90  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

in  Theodore  Parker.  He  was  a  man  of  earnest  pur- 
pose and  wide  influence.  He  was  not  the  usual 
type  of  minister,  and  his  strong  sermons  were  not 
always  taken  from  a  Bible  text,  but  lessons  were 
drawn  from  the  everyday  life  of  the  working  men 
and  women  among  whom  she  lived.  Thoughtful 
young  people  adored  him,  Louisa  among  the  rest; 
and  many  a  delightful  Sunday  evening  was  passed 
in  his  hospitable  home.  For  hither  came  the  best 
in  the  land,  and  the  somewhat  shy  and  unfortu- 
nately tall  young  woman,  who  could  not  conveni- 
ently tuck  herself  out  of  view,  would  slip  into  a 
corner  and  watch  and  enjoy  a  sight  of  these  great 
beings.  She  describes  him  in  "  Work,"  in  the 
character  of  Mr.  Power,  as  "  A  sturdy  man  of 
fifty,  with  a  keen,  brave  face,  penetrating  eyes,  and 
mouth  a  little  grim;  but  a  voice  so  resonant  and 
sweet,  it  reminded  one  of  silver  trumpets,  and 
stirred  and  won  the  hearer  with  irresistible  power. 
Rough  gray  hair  and  all  the  features  rather  rugged, 
as  if  the  Great  Sculptor  had  blocked  out  a  grand 
statue  and  left  the  man's  own  soul  to  finish  it." 

It  was  at  his  house  she  met  Charles  Sumner,  Julia 
Ward  Howe,  Phillips,  Garrison,  Beecher,  and  other 
"  great  ones,"  and  as  she  sat  apart  and  listened  to 
these  eloquent  talkers,  whose  pet  theme  was  abo- 
lition, her  enthusiastic  nature  warmed  at  the  fire, 
and  freedom  for  the  slave  was  thereafter  the  war- 
cry  of  Louisa  Alcott.  She  writes  to  her  father  de- 
scribing these  Sunday  evenings : 


"LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN  UP.  91 

"  All  talk,  and  I  sit  in  a  corner  listening  and 
wishing  a  certain  placid,  gray-haired  gentleman 
was  there  talking,  too.  Mrs.  Parker  calls  on  me, 
reads  my  stories,  and  is  very  good  to  me.  Theo- 
dore asks  Louisa  '  how  her  worthy  parents  do,'  and 
is  otherwise  very  friendly  to  the  large  bashful  girl 
who  adorns  his  parlor  steadily." 

It  was  a  very  happy  and  very  busy  winter,  full 
of  stirring  events,  social  gayety,  fine  lectures,  thea- 
ter and  opera  treats,  plenty  of  sewing  and  much 
writing.  On  November  3,  1856,  she  writes  in  her 
journal : 

"  Wrote  all  the  morning.  In  the  P.M.  went  to 
see  the  Sumner  reception,  as  he  comes  home  after 
the  Brooks  affair.  I  saw  him  pass  up  Beacon  Street, 
pale  and  feeble,  but  smiling  and  bowing.  I  rushed 
to  Hancock  Street,  and  was  in  time  to  see  him 
bring  his  proud  old  mother  to  the  window,  when  the 
crowd  gave  three  cheers  for  her.  I  cheered,  too, 
and  was  very  much  excited.  Mr.  Parker  met  him 
somewhere  before  the  ceremony  began,  and  the 
above  P.  cheered  like  a  boy;  and  Sumner  laughed 
and  nodded  as  his  friend  pranced  and  shouted,  bare- 
headed and  beaming." 

Charles  Sumner  was  at  that  time  the  idol  of  Bos- 
ton ;  he  was  a  brilliant  man  and  a  fine  speaker. 
He  was  elected  United  States  Senator  from  Massa- 
chusetts, to  succeed  Daniel  Webster,  and  it  is  a  re- 
markable coincidence  that  Henry  Clay  left  the  Sen- 
ate on  the  day  Sumner  entered  it.  He  was  bitterly 


92  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

opposed  to  slavery,  and  always  championed  the 
cause  of  the  weak  against  the  strong1.  He  was 
really  more  of  a  scholar  than  a  politician,  but  his 
country  needed  him  and  there  was  no  hesitation 
when  this  call  came : 

Forego  thy  dreams  of  lettered  ease; 

Lay  thou  the  scholar's  promise  by: 
The  rights  of  man  are  more  than  these. 

He  heard  and  answered,  "Here  am  I." 

His  plain  speaking  made  an  enemy  of  Preston 
Smith  Brooks,  who  attacked  him  in  the  Senate  with 
a  bludgeon,  and  it  was  when  recovering  from  his 
wounds  that  Boston  rang  with  his  welcome  home. 

If  Louisa  had  been  a  man,  there  is  no  telling 
what  part  she  would  have  taken  in  the  burning  ques- 
tions of  the  day,  but  her  petticoats  kept  her  shy,  and 
the  time  had  not  yet  arrived  when  women  could 
speak  their  minds;  so  she  could  only  stand  on  street 
corners  and  cheer,  and  write,  write,  write,  in  her 
sunny  attic. 

Again  she  says :  "  My  kind  cousin  L.  W.  got  tick- 
ets for  a  course  of  lectures  on  '  Italian  Literature,' 
and  sent  me  a  new  cloak  with  other  needful  and 
pretty  things  such  as  girls  love  to  have.  I  shall 
never  forget  how  kind  she  has  always  been  to  me." 

November  5th  was  a  "  red-letter "  day,  for 
though  her  play  was  not  yet  forthcoming,  Mr. 
Barry  gave  her  a  pass  to  the  theater,  and  in  the 
evening  she  saw  La  Grange  as  Norma,  and  grew 


"LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN  UP.  93 

stage-struck,  as  she  usually  did  over  good  things. 
The  next  day  she  took  a  "  little  walk  "  from  Boston 
to  Roxbury  to  consult  her  cousin,  Dr.  Windship, 
about  the  play,  and  rode  home  in  the  new  cars  just 
established.  She  adds :  "  In  the  evening  went  to 
teach  at  Warren  Street  Chapel  Charity  School.  I'll 
help  as  I  am  helped,  if  I  can.  Mother  says  no  one 
so  poor  he  can't  do  a  little  for  some  one  poorer  yet." 

About  this  time,  May  came  to  Boston  to  visit  her 
aunt,  Mrs.  Bond,  and  study  drawing.  She  had 
great  talent,  which  needed  just  such  help  for  its 
development,  and  Louisa  rejoiced  over  her  good 
luck.  May  was  full  of  enthusiasm,  and  the  sisters 
had  a  happy  meeting  and  a  real  home  talk.  The 
little  cottage  in  the  snowbank  was  cozy  and  warm, 
but  Elizabeth's  delicate  health  kept  them  anxious; 
this  was  a  shadow  which  hung  persistently  over 
them  in  spite  of  the  good  times. 

Louisa  found  constant  use  for  her  theater  pass 
On  one  occasion  she  saw  Forrest  as  Othello.  She 
writes :  "  It  is  funny  to  see  how  attentive  all  the 
once  cool  gentlemen  are  to  Miss  Alcott,  now  she 
has  a  pass  to  the  new  theater."  She  went  to  a  little 
party  at  her  aunt's  on  the  evening  of  her  birthday, 
November  29th,  which  she  greatly  enjoyed.  She 
says :  "  May  looked  very  pretty  and  seemed  to  be 
a  favorite.  The  boys  teased  me  about  being  an 
authoress,  and  said  I'd  be  famous  yet.  Will  if  I  can, 
but  something  else  may  be  better  for  me." 

Birthdays  were  serious  occasions  to  Louisa,  but 


94  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

this  one  was  brighter  than  usual.  She  had  letters 
from  home  and  a  pretty  pin  from  her  father,  so  she 
went  to  bed  happy. 

December  was  a  story-writing  month — Christ- 
mas and  New  Year  tales.  The  active  brain  spun 
them  out  for  the  money.  One,  "  The  Cross  on  the 
Church  Tower,"  suggested  by  the  tower  before  her 
window,  must  have  specially  appealed  to  her. 

She  was  beginning,  however,  to  feel  the  need 
of  something  better  in  her  writing.  Her  stories 
answered  their  purpose,  and  helped  her  in  times  of 
need,  but  nothing  more;  there  was  scarcely  one 
which,  in  later  days,  she  thought  worth  preserving. 
She  longed  to  do  something  really  good;  she  felt 
that  she  had  talent  above  the  columns  of  the  weekly 
papers,  if  she  only  had  a  chance  to  try  her  wings. 
Even  now,  dim  ideas  of  a  novel  began  to  hover 
around  her,  but  it  had  no  shape  as  yet.  Their  own 
family  life  with  its  many  experiences,  she  thought 
would  prove  most  interesting,  beginning  with  her 
father's  boyhood  at  Spindle  Hill.  The  Temple 
School,  Fruitlands,  Boston  and  Concord,  she  had 
planned  as  chapters.  She  says :  "  The  trials  and 
triumphs  of  the  Pathetic  Family  would  make  a  capi- 
tal book;  may  I  live  to  do  it." 

And  she  did;  not  the  book  indeed,  that  she  in- 
tended about  a  Pathetic  Family,  but  a  winsome 
study  of  four  wholesome,  happy,  hearty  girls,  who 
are  always  peeping  from  a  sunny  little  book,  to  chat 
with  girls  of  coming  generations  about  the  same 


"LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN  UP.  95 

pleasures,  aspirations,  and  experiences  which  come 
to  all  girls  through  all  time. 

Louisa's  income  was  now  increased  by  three 
hours'  work  as  daily  governess,  which  included 
caring  for  a  little  invalid. 

"  It  is  hard  work,"  she  writes,  "  but  I  can  do  it; 
and  am  glad  to  sit  in  a  large  fine  room  part  of  each 
day,  after  my  sky-parlor,  which  has  nothing  pretty 
in  it,  and  only  the  gray  tower  and  blue  sky  outside, 
as  I  sit  at  the  window  writing.  I  love  luxury,  but 
freedom  and  independence  better." 

The  New  Year,  1857,  began  brightly;  the  same 
kind  cousin,  L.  W.,  gave  her  her  first  new  silk  dress 
and  she  felt  as  if  all  the  Hancocks,  Quincys,  and 
great  folk  of  Boston  beheld  her  as  she  went  forth 
proudly  arrayed. 

Mr.  Alcott,  who  had  been  on  a  lecture  tour  to 
New  York  and  Philadelphia,  finished  up  at  Boston 
on  his  way  home.  His  trip,  as  usual,  had  yielded 
but  little  money.  "  Why  don't  rich  people,  who 
enjoy  his  talks,  pay  for  them? "  Louisa  asked. 
"  Philosophers  are  always  poor,  and  too  modest  to 
pass  around  their  own  hats." 

She  was  very  proud  of  May's  first  portrait,  a 
crayon  head  of  her  mother,  which  was  an  excellent 
likeness  and  brought  joy  to  the  family.  Her  father 
stayed  some  time  in  Boston,  and  gave  many  in- 
teresting talks  to  a  circle  which  appreciated  him 
and  saw  him  always  at  his  best,  and  Louisa  en- 
joyed having  him  so  constantly  with  her.  There 


96  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

was  wonderful  sympathy  between  the  two.  Louisa, 
the  capable,  practical  breadwinner,  adored  the  phi- 
losopher in  her  father,  the  spirit  which  in  spite  of 
many  downward  pullings  could  always  rise  above 
the  clouds.  Her  definition  of  a  philosopher,  at 
which  no  doubt  her  own  father  laughed  most  heart- 
ily of  all,  was  "  a  man  up  in  a  balloon,  with  his  fam- 
ily and  friends  holding  the  ropes  which  confine  him 
to  earth,  and  trying  to  haul  him  down." 

In  February,  she  ran  home  as  a  "Valentine," 
then  she  went  back  to  work  till  May,  when  anxiety 
for  her  sister  drove  her  home  for  good.  The  last 
months  in  Boston  were  very  pleasant.  She  fin- 
ished teaching  and  went  about  and  rested  after  her 
labors;  she  was  a  most  social  person  and  loved  to 
visit.  She  still  appeared  on  Sunday  evenings  at 
Mr.  Parker's,  and  there  among  the  other  guests 
she  met  F.  B.  Sanborn,  the  young  educator,  whose 
broad  mind  and  able  instruction  has  made  from 
that  day  to  this  a  notable  center  of  learning  in 
Concord. 

She  also  saw  young  Edwin  Booth  as  Brutus, 
liking  him  better  than  his  father,  and  on  the  loth 
of  May  she  reached  home,  having  accomplished 
what  she  had  set  out  to  do — "  supported  myself, 
written  eight  stories,  taught  four  months,  earned  a 
hundred  dollars  and  sent  money  home." 

Now  came  the  real  shadow  on  her  life,  the  heavi- 
est, because  it  was  the  first,  and  sorrow  is  the  hard- 
est teacher  one  can  have.  Beth  was  slipping  away 


"LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN  UP.  97 

from  them ;  they  did  not  realize  it  at  first,  the 
change  was  so  gradual,  but  when  Louisa  came  from 
Boston,  a  heavy  weight  fell  upon  her  heart  when 
she  saw  her  mister's  face. 

"  It  was  no  paler,  and  but  little  thinner  than  in 
the  autumn,  yet  there  was  a  strange  transparent 
look  about  it,  as  if  the  mortal  was  being  slowly 
refined  away,  and  the  immortal  shining  through  the 
frail  flesh,  with  an  indescribable  beauty." 

There  was  a  seeming  hush  in  the  little  household 
at  Walpole;  there  was  a  drawn  and  haggard  look 
on  the  mother's  face,  a  gentle  pity  in  the  father's 
eyes,  while  Louisa,  Anna,  and  May  tried  to  shut 
out  all  thought  of  the  trial  that  must  come.  The 
most  serene  among  them  was  Elizabeth  herself;  her 
beautiful  disposition  shone  forth  and  lent  her  a 
strength  that  was  surprising.  Those  about  her 
dared  not  look  forward  to  what  home  would  be 
without  her  sweet  and  gentle  presence,  for  she 
was,  above  all,  the  "  home  girl,"  with  countless 
little  home  graces.  These  may  not  be  noticed 
in  the  humdrum  of  every  day;  but  when  a  pause 
comes  and  the  signs  are  seen  no  more,  we  can- 
not get  used  to  the  silence  and  void  their  absence 
makes. 

Here  the  philosopher's  influence  shone  forth,  and 
the  brave  family  lived  to  the  height  of  his  teaching. 
Death  was  knocking  at  the  door,  but  they  held  him 
off  and  did  what  they  could  to  defy  him. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Louisa  read  Charlotte 


98  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Bronte's  life,  such  a  contrast  to  her  own,  with  its 
home  spirit  and  its  innocent  pleasures,  that  the  girl's 
heart,  very  tender  just  then  with  the  cloud  upon 
it,  ached  for  the  three  lonely  sisters  on  the  moors. 
She  writes : 

"  Wonder  if  I  shall  ever  be  famous  enough  for 
people  to  care  to  read  my  story  and  struggles.  I 
can't  be  a  Charlotte  Bronte,  but  I  may  do  a  little 
something  yet." 

In  July,  Mr.  Alcott's  mother  came  to  visit  them. 
She  was  eighty-four,  but  a  strong,  industrious  and 
wise  old  lady,  'and  a  great  delight  to  the  Alcott 
girls,  who  clustered  around  her,  never  tired  of  lis- 
tening to  anecdotes  of  their  father's  boyhood.  "  A 
sweet  old  lady,"  writes  Louisa,  "  and  I  am  glad  to 
know  her  and  see  where  Father  gets  his  nature. 
...  A  house  needs  a  grandma  in  it.  As  we  sat 
talking  over  Father's  boyhood,  I  never  realized  so 
plainly  before,  how  much  he  has  done  for  himself. 
His  early  life  sounded  like  a  pretty  old  romance, 
and  Mother  added  the  love  passages." 

By  August,  Elizabeth  grew  so  much  worse  that 
they  decided  to  go  back  to  Concord.  Mr.  Alcott 
was  never  happy  far  away  from  Emerson,  the  one 
true  friend,  who  loved,  understood,  and  helped  him. 
There  was  a  small  estate  for  sale  in  the  eastern 
part  of  Concord ;  on  it  was  a  substantial  though  very 
old  farmhouse,  the  Orchard  House,  as  it  was  after- 
wards called ;  it  had  been  standing  for  nearly  two 
centuries  when  the  Alcotts  became  the  owners  of  it. 


"LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN  UP.  99 

It  was  an  easy  distance  from  Emerson's  house,  and 
adjoining  it,  on  the  east,  was  Hawthorne's  home, 
The  Wayside,  which  had  been  the  Alcott's  Hillside 
ten  years  before. 

Mrs.  Alcott  took  the  invalid  to  the  seashore  while 
the  girls  made  the  move  from  Walpole  to  Con- 
cord, but  there  was  so  much  to  be  done  to  make  the 
old  farmhouse  habitable,  that  they  rented  half  of 
another  house  while  repairs  were  going  on.  They 
fitted  up  a  pleasant  room  for  Beth,  and  when  she 
came  home,  more  shadowy  than  ever,  they  all  set- 
tled down  for  the  winter,  uncertain  what  it  would 
bring  them. 

The  dear  old  grandmother  went  home  with  her 
son,  but  Louisa  stayed  where  she  was,  she  had  no 
heart  for  Boston;  she  hovered  around  the  sick- 
room, and  on  her  birthday  she  writes : 

"  Twenty-five  this  month.  I  feel  my  quarter  of 
a  century  heavy  on  my  shoulders  just  now.  I  lead 
two  lives:  one  serene,  gay  with  plays,  and  so  on; 
the  other,  very  sad,  in  Betty's  room,  for  though  she 
wishes  us  to  act  and  loves  to  see  us  get  ready,  the 
shadow  is  there,  and  Mother  and  I  see  it.  Betty 
loves  to  have  me  with  her,  and  I  am  with  her  at 
night,  for  Mother  needs  rest.  Betty  says  she  feels 
'  strong  '  when  I  am  near." 

This  is  tenderly  described  in  "  Little  Women/' 
when  Jo  keeps  vigil  with  this  beloved  sister  in  "  The 
Valley  of  the  Shadow." 

"  Often  when  she  woke,  Jo  found  Beth  reading 


100  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

in  her  well-worn  little  book,  heard  her  singing  softly 
to  beguile  the  sleepless  night,  or  saw  her  lean  her 
face  upon  her  hands  while  slow  tears  dropped 
through  the  transparent  ringers;  and  Jo  would  lie 
watching  her,  with  thoughts  too  deep  for  tears,  feel- 
ing that  Beth,  in  her  simple  unselfish  way,  was  try- 
ing to  wean  herself  from  the  dear  old  life  and  fit 
herself  for  the  life  to  come,  by  sacred  words  of 
comfort,  quiet  prayers,  and  the  music  she  loved 
so  well." 

During  those  days  of  waiting,  her  hands  were 
never  idle,  and  she  would  make  little  things  and 
drop  them  down  to  the  school  children  who  passed 
beneath  her  window,  and  she  would  smile  down 
into  the  upturned  grateful  faces.  But  by  and  by 
the  needle  grew  "  too  heavy  "  and  the  work  was 
put  away  forever. 

The  poem  which  came  from  Louisa's  full  heart 
at  this  time  tells  all  one  cares  to  know  of  the  sad 
parting.  In  "  Little  Women  "  she  called  it 

MY  BETH. 

Sitting  patient  in  the  shadow 

Till  the  blessed  light  shall  come, 
A  serene  and  saintly  presence 

Sanctifies  our  troubled  home. 
Earthly  joys,  and  hopes,  and  sorrows, 

Break  like  ripples  on  the  strand 
Of  the  deep  and  solemn  river 

Where  her  willing  feet  now  stand. 


"LITTLE  WOMEN"  GROWN   UP.  101 

Oh,  my  sister,  passing  from  me, 

Out  of  human  care  and  strife, 
Leave  me  as  a  gift,  those  virtues 

Which  have  beautified  your  life. 
Dear,  bequeath  me  that  great  patience 

Which  has  power  to  sustain 
A  cheerful,  uncomplaining  spirit, 

In  its  prison-house  of  pain. 

Give  me,  for  I  need  it  sorely, 

Of  that  courage  wise  and  sweet, 
Which  has  made  the  path  of  duty 

Green  beneath  your  willing  feet. 
Give  me  that  unselfish  nature, 

That  with  charity  divine 
Can  pardon  wrong  for  love's  dear  sake. 

Meek  heart,  forgive  me  mine! 

Thus  our  daily  parting  loseth 

Something  of  its  bitter  pain, 
And  while  learning  this  hard  lesson, 

My  great  loss  becomes  my  gain. 
For  the  touch  of  grief  will  render 

My  wild  nature  more  serene, 
Give  to  life  new  aspirations — 

A  new  trust  in  the  unseen. 

Henceforth,  safe  across  the  river, 

I  shall  see  forever  more 
A  beloved  household  spirit, 

Waiting  for  me  on  the  shore. 
Hope  and  faith,  born  of  my  sorrow, 

Guardian  angels  shall  become, 
And  the  sister  gone  before  me, 

By  their  hands  shall  lead  me  home. 


102  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Louisa  never  spoke  of  this  grief  as  she  did  in 
those  few  pathetic  sentences  in  "  Little  Women  " : 

"  So  the  spring  days  came  and  went,  the  sky 
grew  clearer,  the  earth  greener,  the  flowers  were  up 
fair  and  early,  and  the  birds  came  back  in  time  to 
say  good-by  to  Beth,  who,  like  a  tired  but  trustful 
child,  clung  to  the  hands  that  had  led  her  all  her 
life,  as  father  and  mother  guided  her  tenderly 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow,  and  gave  her  up 
to  God.  ...  As  Beth  had  hoped,  the  '  tide  went 
out  easily ';  and  in  the  dark  hour  before  the  dawn, 
on  the  bosom  where  she  had  drawn  her  first  breath, 
she  drew  her  last,  with  no  farewell,  but  one  loving 
look  and  a  little  sight.  .  .  . 

"  When  morning  came,  for  the  first  time  in  many 
months,  the  fire  was  out,  Jo's  place  was  empty,  and 
the  room  was  very  still.  But  a  bird  sang  blithely  on 
a  budding  bough  close  by,  the  snowdrops  blossomed 
freshly  at  the  window,  and  the  spring  sunshine 
streamed  in  like  a  benediction  over  the  placid  face 
upon  the  pillow — a  face  so  full  of  painless  peace 
that  those  who  loved  it  best  smiled  through  their 
tears,  and  thanked  God  that  Beth  was  well  at  last." 

They  buried  her  in  Sleepy  Hollow  close  by,  and 
Emerson,  Thoreau,  Sanborn,  and  John  Pratt  car- 
ried her  tenderly  to  her  last  home,  which  she  chose 
herself.  They  sang  her  favorite  hymn,  they  decked 
the  house  with  her  favorite  flowers,  they  made  of 
her  memory  a  bright  spot,  for  the  shadow  was  lifted 
and  the  pain  was  gone. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

PROGRESS    AND    POVERTY. 

]T  took  the  family  several  months  to  set- 
tle down  after  Elizabeth's  death.  She 
had  been  such  a  quiet  force  in  their  lives 
that  they  did  not  recognize  how  much 
her  influence  had  governed  them;  the  house  where 
she  died  became  haunted  with  sad  memories,  and 
their  own  not  being  quite  ready,  they  occupied  tem- 
porarily a  wing  of  the  Hawthorne  place  which  had 
once  been  theirs.  The  Hawthornes  were  abroad  at 
the  time,  so  the  arrangement  was  satisfactory  all 
round,  for  the  Alcott's  property  was  adjoining,  and 
improvements  could  be  superintended  on  the  spot. 
Mrs.  Alcott  soon  became  absorbed  in  the  new 
home,  and  found  much  comfort  in  watching  its 
growth.  Mr.  Alcott  was  already  planning  orchards 
and  outside  improvements.  May  had  gone  to  Bos- 
ton, and  Anna  had  picked  up  the  threads  of  a  hap- 
py romance  which  had  been  laid  aside  when  Beth 
began  to  fail;  so  Louisa,  in  the  long  spring  days 
which  followed,  slipped  into  the  dead  sister's  place, 
keeping  house  for  her  father  and  mother,  trying  to 
hold  the  restless  spirit  in  check,  and  watching  with 


104  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

much  interest  the  growing  of  Anna's  pretty  love 
story.  John  Pratt  had  been  a  pupil  at  Sanborn's 
school  when  the  Alcotts  moved  back  to  Concord, 
and  had  taken  part  with  the  girls  in  plays,  charades, 
and  masquerades.  He  was  the  son  of  Minot  Pratt, 
a  well-known  resident  of  Concord,  a  good  friend  of 
Mr.  Alcott's,  with  whom  he  sympathized  in  many 
ways.  Minot  Pratt,  a  celebrated  botanist,  was 
wonderfully  successful  in  the  cultivation  and  rear- 
ing of  flowers;  he  had  also  been  a  member  of  the 
famous  Brook  Farm  community,  which,  like  Fmit- 
lands,  had  come  to  nothing,  so,  as  there  was  much 
in  common  between  the  two  men,  it  is  small  wonder 
that  their  children  should  be  thrown  in  pleasant  as- 
sociation. 

John  Pratt,  as  Louisa  described  him,  was  "  hand- 
some, healthy,  and  happy  "  when  his  engagement  to 
Anna  Alcott  was  announced.  Louisa,  though  out- 
wardly rejoicing,  took  the  news  very  much  to  heart. 
"  So  another  sister  is  gone,"  she  writes,  and  later : 
"  I  moaned  in  private  over  my  great  loss,  and  said 
I'd  never  forgive  John  for  taking  Anna  from  me, 
but  I  will,  if  he  makes  her  happy,  and  turn  to  little 
May  for  my  comfort." 

It  was  just  here  that  the  hungry  soul  of  this 
strong,  self-reliant  young  woman  cried  out.  Love 
and  sympathy  she  depended  upon,  and  the  father 
and  mother,  who  had  never  failed  her,  came  to  her 
rescue  now.  In  the  first  days  of  her  grief  when 
unaccustomed  to  sleeping  through  a  whole  night, 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.        105 

she  would  wake  up  thinking  she  heard  the  dear  in- 
valid calling  to  her,  the  sense  of  her  loss  was  very 
keen;  it  was  then  that  her  mother  would  come  to 
her  in  the  darkness,  and  soothe  her  as  only  mothers 
can,  and  talk  of  patience  and  resignation,  of  which 
Mrs.  Alcott  herself  was  such  a  beautiful  example. 
As  the  bitterness  wore  away  and  the  active  mind 
was  stirring  again,  she  had  long  talks  with  her 
father  in  his  study,  and  gained  from  him  a  bit  of 
that  quiet  philosophy  which  had  kept  him  serene 
through  so  many  trials. 

Added  to  this,  her  own  energy  and  strong  will 
served  her  now.  Once  more,  in  the  intervals  of 
housekeeping,  she  took  up  her  pen,  and  before  she 
knew  it,  stories  began  to  grow  in  her  brain.  They 
were  all  simple  tales,  but  something  of  her  own  love 
and  sorrow  had  crept  into  them,  making  them  very 
sweet  and  very  true  to  life.  Little  by  little  the 
magazines  began  to  call  for  her  work  and  to  pay 
more  liberally,  and  Louisa  found  herself  able  to 
provide  greater  comforts  for  the  household. 

In  June,  May  came  home,  and  Anna  returned 
from  a  visit  to  Pratt  Farm,  so  Louisa  ran  off  for  a 
little  change  to  Boston,  where  her  hosts  of  relatives 
always  made  it  pleasant  for  her.  Here  she  saw 
Charlotte  Cushman  and  had  "  stage  fever  "  so  badly 
that  she  came  nearer  being  an  actress  than  ever  in 
her  life  before.  Dr.  Windship  asked  Mr.  Barry  to 
let  her  act  at  his  theater,  and  it  was  all  privately  ar- 
ranged that  she  was  to  do  Widow  Pottle,  for  the 


106  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

dress  was  a  good  disguise  and  she  knew  the  part 
well,  but  poor  Louisa  never  got  her  dramatic  ma- 
chinery wound  up  that  something  did  not  happen. 
Mr.  Barry  broke  his  leg  at  a  most  inconvenient  mo- 
ment, so  she  had  to  give  it  up  and  swallow  her  dis- 
appointment as  best  she  could.  Fortunately  at  this 
period  the  new  house  in  Concord  called  for  all  hands 
to  help  in  the  moving,  and  Louisa  hurried  home  to 
a  busy,  happy  time,  for  work  always  agreed  with 
the  Alcott  girls.  In  July,  her  journal  tells  us  some- 
thing about  it : 

"  Went  into  the  new  house  and  began  to  settle. 
Father  is  happy ;  Mother  glad  to  be  at  rest ;  Anna  is 
in  bliss  with  her  gentle  John,  and  May  busy  over 
her  pictures.  I  have  plans  simmering,  but  must 
sweep  and  dust  and  wash  my  dish-pans  a  little  longer 
till  I  see  my  way.  Worked  off  my  stage  fever  in 
writing  a  story,  and  felt  better;  also  a  moral  tale 
and  got  twenty-five  dollars  which  pieced  up  our  sum- 
mer gowns  and  bonnets  all  round.  The  inside  of 
my  head  can  at  least  cover  the  outside.  .  .  .  The 
weeklies  will  all  take  stories;  and  I  can  simmer 
novels  while  I  do  my  housework,  so  see  my  way  to 
a  little  money,  and  perhaps  more  by  and  by,  if  I 
ever  make  a  hit.  .  .  .  Much  company  to  see  the  new 
house.  All  seem  glad  that  the-  wandering  family  is 
anchored  at  last." 

This  new  home  they  christened  "  Orchard 
House,"  on  account  of  its  fine  apple  trees.  It  looked 
out  on  the  famous  Lexington  Street,  up  which  the 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.  107 

British  retreated  in  Revolutionary  days,  and  back 
of  it  was  a  range  of  hills,  the  green  of  the  pines  re- 
lieved by  patches  of  gray  birch.  There  were  mag- 
nificent elms  shading  the  house,  and  the  apple  trees 
were  ever  changing  in  hue.  The  trees  were  Mr. 
Alcott's  special  pride ;  he  says  of  them : 

"  The  ancient  elms  in  front  of  the  house,  of  a 
hundred  years'  standing  and  more,  are  the  pride  of 
the  yard,  luxuriant  and  far-spreading,  overshadow- 
ing the  roof  and  gables,  yet  admitting  light  into  hall 
and  chambers.  Sunny  rooms — sunny  household." 

In  front  of  the  house  stretched  a  broad  meadow, 
supposed  once  to  have  been  the  bed  of  the  Con- 
necticut River.  A  charming  woodland  path  wound 
upward  to  the  very  heart  of  the  hills,  to  the  summit 
of  which  the  Alcott  girls  loved  to  climb.  It  is 
doubtless  upon  these  heights  where  they  met  many 
an  afternoon,  that  the  "  Little  Women  "  built  their 
castles  in  the  air,  and  in  memory  of  their  childish 
days  kept  up  the  old  play  of  Pilgrim's  Progress. 
They  called  the  top  of  this  hill  the  "  Delectable 
Mountain,"  it  being  the  highest  point,  and  naturally 
their  goal.  Here  is  Miss  Alcott's  own  description 
of  it  in  "  Little  Women  "  : 

"...  Through  an  opening  in  the  woods  one 
could  look  across  the  wide  blue  river,  the  meadows 
on  the  other  side,  far  over  the  outskirts  of  the  great 
city  [that  must  have  been  Boston,  only  twenty 
miles  away]  to  the  green  hills  that  rose  to  meet 
the  sky.  The  sun  was  low,  and  the  heavens  glowed 


io8  'LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

with  the  splendor  of  an  autumn  sunset.  Gold  and 
purple  clouds  lay  on  the  hilltops;  and  rising  high 
into  the  ruddy  light  were  silvery-white  peaks  that 
shone  like  the  airy  spires  of  some  Celestial  City." 

Concord  was  noted  for  its  wonderful  sunsets,  and 
Hawthorne,  who  loved  the  solitude  of  this  special 
ridge,  enjoyed  the  brilliant  colors  as  he  paced  his 
favorite  haunt,  treading  down  the  tangle  of  under- 
growth until  he  wore  an  irregular  path  upon  the 
brow  of  the  hill,  which  is  distinctly  visible  to  this 
day.  Often,  no  doubt,  he  came  across  this  group 
of  sisters :  Anna  with  her  sewing,  May  with  her 
drawing,  and  Louisa  reading  aloud  to  them  in  her 
clear,  delightful  way ;  and  many  a  time  the  shy  man, 
who  seldom  strayed  from  the  shelter  of  his  own 
sweet  household,  would  be  drawn  into  their  little 
circle  in  spite  of  himself,  for  Louisa's  broad  soci- 
ability reached  out  to  all  who  passed  her  way. 

Across  the  meadow  stretch,  rose  other  hills  lead- 
ing to  Walden,  which  Thoreau  loved  and  where  he 
often  lived  for  weeks  at  a  time,  in  the  very  heart  of 
nature.  These  hills  were  not  so  high,  but  they  were 
beautiful  and  well  wooded,  so  Orchard  House  was 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  something  to  delight  the 
eye,  and  Mr.  Alcott  had  the  good  sense  in  remodel- 
ing the  place,  to  use  only  subdued  colors  in  freshen- 
ing its  exterior,  something  in  harmony  with  the 
bark  of  the  trees,  the  color  of  the  earth,  and  the 
green  of  the  leaves.  In  walking  over  the  grounds 
of  Orchard  House,  the  eye  was  pleased  with  un- 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.        109 

expected  glimpses  of  his  rustic  work;  a  table  here, 
a  bench  there,  a  little  foot-bridge,  or  a  low  fence. 

Inside  the  three  girls  lent  their  skillful  aid.  They 
painted  and  papered  the  rooms  with  their  own 
hands,  they  laid  carpets,  they  made  and  hung  their 
own  curtains,  and  after  all  was  in  order,  May  put 
the  finishing  touches  with  her  beautiful  drawings, 
and  the  result  was  a  home,  sweet,  simple,  and  re- 
fined, which  opened  wide  its  doors  to  the  friends  in 
Concord. 

For  some  time  the  festive  air  of  the  new  home 
kept  Louisa  contented.  She  was  never  so  happy  as 
when  among  her  friends,  and  those  who  had  lent 
most  color  to  her  life  were  there  around  them.  The 
Alcotts  and  the  Emersons  were  very  intimate,  and 
Dr.  Edward  Emerson,  Emerson's  only  son,  gives  us 
a  most  delightful  picture  of  Louisa  and  her  sisters 
at  this  period  (1858).  Louisa  he  described  as  fine 
looking,  with  regular,  though  massive  features  and 
wavy  brown  hair.  Anna  he  did  not  consider  pretty, 
but  so  friendly  and  sweet-tempered  "  that  the  beauty 
of  expression  made  up  for  the  lack  of  it  in  her 
features.  May,  the  youngest,  was  a  tall,  well-made 
blonde;  the  lower  part  of  her  face  was  irregular, 
but  she  had  beautiful  blue  eyes  and  brilliant  yellow 
hair." 

Once,  during  a  visit  he  paid  at  the  Alcott  house 
with  his  mother  and  sister,  he  tells  us  how  Louisa 
entertained  them  in  her  own  witty  fashion,  with 
burlesques  on  her  father's  and  his  father's  writings, 


no  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

calling  Mr.  Emerson,  Rolf  Walden  Emcrboy.  He 
continues : 

"  In  Concord  at  Mr.  Sanborn's  school,  the  Alcott 
girls  were  in  demand  for  private  theatricals,  their 
talent  and  experience  being  well  known.  If  Louisa 
could  make  our  sides  ache  with  laughter,  Anna 
could  cause  our  handkerchiefs  to  come  out,  and 
much  swallowing  of  lumps  in  the  throat. 

"  The  evenings  at  the  Alcott  house  also  left  de- 
lightful memories.  Although  a  long  walk,  the  bait 
was  good  enough  to  draw  the  boys  and  girls  often. 
The  hearty  and  motherly  quality  of  Mrs.  Alcott's 
welcome  was  something  to  remember.  There  was  a 
piano — none  of  the  best — and  May,  in  the  highest 
spirits,  would  swoop  to  the  stool  and  all  would  fall 
to  dancing;  the  mother  herself  often  joining  us. 
One  of  the  guests  would  relieve  May,  and  give  her 
a  turn.  Then,  with  or  without  voices,  we  stood  by 
the  piano  singing  '  Rolling  Home,'  '  Ubi  sunt  O 
pocula,'  '  Music  in  the  Air,'  and  after  the  war  be- 
gan, 'The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic,'  'John 
Brown,'  '  Marching  Along,'  and  other  stirring 
songs  fresh  from  camp." 

He  tells  of  the  jolly  evenings  on  the  porch, 
where  they  watched  the  twilight  deepen  into  dark, 
and  told  "  creepy  "  stories,  and  ate  chestnuts  and 
apples  amid  thrills  of  horror,  and  went  home  at  ten 
o'clock  at  the  very  latest. 

Masquerades  were  a  great  delight  to  these  young 
ones,  and  there  were  many  in  Concord.  Their  fa- 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.  ill 

vorite  one  was  the  sheet  party,  where  everyone 
looked  alike,  draped  in  white  sheets,  a  white  cloth 
with  eyeslits  over  the  face,  and  a  pillow-case  pinned 
tightly  around  the  scalp,  entirely  concealing  the  hair, 
and  hanging  down  behind. 

"  These  pleasant  pictures  of  the  past,"  Dr.  Emer- 
son says  in  conclusion,  "  may  read  a  lesson.  Great 
pleasures  .  may  be  had  simply  and  cheaply ;  good- 
nature, self-help,  mother-wit,  independence,  are 
such  good  ingredients,  that  a  cake  baked  with  them 
is  safe  to  turn  out  well." 

Truly  the  days  at  Concord  sped  gayly.  The 
thunders  of  war  were  heard  in  the  distance,  to  be 
sure,  but  the  call  to  arms  had  not  yet  reached  the 
placid  little  town.  Louisa's  wings  were  beginning 
to  flap  again  with  the  strong  desire  to  go  out  into 
the  world,  but  perhaps  it  was  as  well  that  during 
those  hot  times  of  discussion  she  found  herself 
safely  hemmed  in  by  this  little  band  of  philosophers, 
for  she,  being  naturally  impulsive  and  enthusiastic, 
thought  of  the  threatening  war  only  as  of  a  struggle 
between  the  North  and  the  South  over  the  freedom 
or  bondage  of  the  slave.  And  she  and  Mr.  Haw- 
thorne, her  next-door  neighbor,  must  have  had 
many  a  spirited  argument  on  that  very  subject,  for 
though  he  was  loyal  to  the  North,  he  always 
contended  that  abolition  was  not  the  keynote 
of  the  war.  In  a  letter  written  by  him  in 
1861,  he  says:  "Though  I  approve  of  the  war 
as  much  as  any  man,  I  don't  quite  understand 


II2  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

what  we  are  fighting  for,  or  what  definite  result 
can  be  expected." 

Emerson,  Alcott,  and  Thoreau  were,  in  their 
calmer  way,  as  enthusiastic  as  Louisa  herself; 
though  with  their  riper  judgment,  they  held  them- 
selves in  check.  But  F.  B.  Sanborn,  the  young 
school-teacher  of  Concord,  was  not  so  discreet,  and 
came  very  near  arrest  and  imprisonment  for  his 
open  championship  of  John  Brown. 

To-day,  safe  and  peaceful  under  one  flag,  we  of 
the  North,  South,  East,  and  West  wonder  at  the 
intense  feeling  that  hung  over  every  question  of 
that  day,  but  to  Louisa,  born  in  the  midst  of  the 
struggle,  it  was  all  very  real  and  tragic.  She  longed 
with  all  her  girl's  soul — she  was  a  girl  still  in  spite 
of  her  twenty-six  years — to  get  into  the  thick  of  it 
and  fight.  Sanborn  seemed  to  her  something  of  a 
hero,  for  in  his  place  she  would  have  done  likewise. 
She  placed  him  from  that  moment  side  by  side  with 
the  men  she  most  admired,  and  a  lifelong  friendship 
was  sealed  between  them,  for  she  liked  his  inde- 
pendence and  his  spirit. 

He  had  come  to  Concord  comparatively  unknown, 
but  presently  the  modest  school  he  opened  for  boys 
and  girls  began  to  attract  attention  and  soon  be- 
came popular,  while  children  of  the  best  families 
swelled  his  ranks,  for  he  was  friend  as  well  as 
teacher,  and  made  study  a  delight  to  his  pupils. 
Miss  Alcott  has  many  times  made  use  of  him  in  her 
stories,  and  while  she  and  her  sisters  were  too  old 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.  113 

to  be  regular  pupils,  they  joined  in  all  the  frolics, 
which  relieved  the  hours  of  study.  Indeed  it  was 
through  Sanborn's  interest  that  Louisa's  "  Hospital 
Sketches  "  appeared  in  the  Boston  Commonzvealth 
some  years  later,  when  he  became  editor,  and 
through  them  she  became  better  known  than  ever 
before. 

However  happy  they  were  at  Orchard  House, 
there  was  still  very  little  money  in  the  family  pocket- 
book,  and  a  very  persistent  wolf  knocking  at  the 
door.  In  spite  of  the  many  delights  of  Concord, 
the  peace  and  quiet  were  trying  to  Louisa ;  she  was 
not  content  to  drift,  she  wanted  to  fight  and  beat  the 
waves  with  her  sturdy  arms,  and  push  ahead,  for 
she  had  long  ago  made  up  her  mind  that  the  family 
fortunes  lay  in  her  hands.  In  October  she  decided 
to  set  out  once  more  for  Boston,  resolving  as  she 
said  "  to  take  Fate  by  the  throat  and  shake  a  living 
out  of  her." 

This  she  succeeded  in  doing  with  a  pluck  and 
energy  that  amazed  her  friends.  Louisa  was  con- 
tinually "  amazing  her  friends."  There  was  a  bub- 
bling spirit  of  youth  in  her  that  would  not  be 
quenched;  she  had  in  her  short  life,  received  as 
many  if  not  more  hard  knocks  than  most  girls,  but 
she  was  never  "  downed,"  and  the  success  which 
pleased  her  most  was  what  she  had  won  after  a 
vigorous  battle. 

She  spent  the  year  in  Boston  as  governess;  she 
lived  in  her  old  "  sky  parlor,"  and  in  her  spare  time 


1 14  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

fell  to  work  on  her  stories,  visited  her  friends, 
sewed,  went  to  lectures,  and  the  theater  very  often ; 
she  was  happy  because,  she  was  busy. 

"  The  past  year,"  she  writes  on  her  twenty-sixth 
birthday,  "  has  brought  us  our  first  death  and  be- 
trothal— two  events  that  change  my  life.  I  can  see 
that  these  experiences  have  taken  a  deep  hold  and 
changed  or  developed  me.  Lizzie  helps  me  spirit- 
ually, and  a  little  success  makes  me  more  self-reliant. 
...  I  feel  as  if  I  could  write  better  now — more 
truly  of  things  I  have  felt,  and  therefore  know.  I 
hope  I  shall  yet  do  my  great  book,  for  that  seems 
to  be  my  work  and  I  am  growing  up  to  it.  I  even 
think  of  trying  the  Atlantic.  There's  ambition  for 
you !  .  .  .If  Mr.  Lowell  takes  the  one  Father  car- 
ried to  him,  I  shall  think  I  can  do  something." 

In  December,  1858,  Mr.  Alcott  once  again  started 
out  on  a  lecture  tour,  and  May  came  to  Boston  and 
stayed  with  her  sister  while  she  took  drawing  les- 
sons. They  spent  Christmas  at  home,  and  the  fol- 
lowing January  found  Louisa  at  home  again  nurs- 
ing her  mother,  who  was  very  ill.  She  was  always 
most  gentle  and  skillful  in  a  sick  room ;  she  thought 
she  had  a  gift  for  it.  "  If  I  couldn't  write  or  act, 
I'd  try  it,"  she  said ;  "  I  may  yet." 

Her  most  important  story  at  this  time  was  "  Mark 
Field's  Mistake,"  to  which  she  added  a  sequel. 
"  Had  a  queer  time  over  it,"  she  says  in  her  journal, 
"  getting  up  at  night  to  write  it,  being  too  full  to 
sleep."  This  was  a  very  bad  habit  which  grew 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.        115 

upon  her  in  later  years,  when  the  books  and  the 
stories  came  fast  and  thick. 

"  '  Mark '  is  a  success,"  she  writes,  "  and  much 
praised.  .  .  .  Busy  life,  writing,  sewing,  getting  all 
I  can  from  lectures,  books,  and  good  people.  Life  is 
my  college.  May  I  graduate  well  and  earn  some 
honors !  " 

One  thing  this  year  in  Boston  did  prove  to  her — 
that  teaching  was  not  her  vocation ;  she  resolved 
thenceforth  to  do  as  little  as  possible,  for  the  writing 
was  beginning  to  pay  much  better.  She  went  back 
to  Concord  in  April,  glad  to  be  there,  if  the  truth 
must  be  known.  This  had  been  her  third  attempt  at 
supporting  herself  in  Boston,  and  she  had  done  far 
better  than  she  had  hoped.  She  had  grown  in 
every  way;  she  had  gained  experience,  she  stood 
firmly  on  her  own  strong  feet ;  the  same  feet  which 
carried  her  from  Concord  to  Boston  one  day,  a  dis- 
tance of  twenty  miles,  and  supported  her  through  a 
dance  the  same  evening  without  the  faintest  fatigue. 

Louisa  Alcott  at  twenty-seven  was  a  fine,  healthy, 
heroic  young  creature,  one  destined  always  to  stay 
young,  though  the  world  grew  old  around  her.  In 
November,  her  birth  month,  her  first  great  luck 
came  to  her.  "  Hurrah !  "  she  writes,  "  my  story 
was  accepted  and  Lowell  asked  if  it  was  not  a  trans- 
lation from  the  German,  it  was  so  unlike  most  tales. 
I  felt  much  set  up  and  my  fifty  dollars  will  be  very 
happy  money.  People  seem  to  think  it  a  great  thing 
to  get  into  the  Atlantic;  but  I've  not  been  pegging 


n6  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

away  all  these  years  in  vain,  and  I  may  yet  have 
books,  and  publishers,  and  a  fortune  of  my  own. 
Success  has  gone  to  my  head  and  I  wander  a  little. 
Twenty-seven  years  old  and  very  happy !  " 

John  Brown  was  executed  on  December  2,  1859, 
and  Louisa  mourned  with  all  the  others  in  Concord. 
It  was  the  first  note  of  the  war,  and  the  men  and 
women  stood  ready  to  do  their  part,  awaiting  the 
call. 

In  March,  1860,  she  wrote  "  A  Modern  Cinder- 
ella," making  Anna  the  heroine,  and  John  Pratt  the 
hero;  this  she  sent  to  the  Atlantic  and  they  accepted 
it  at  once.  It  is  a  simple  little  story  with  something 
of  the  same  charm  that  hovers  round  "  Little 
Women  "  and  "  An  Old-Fashioned  Girl,"  and  for 
that  reason  it  was  sure  to  attract.  Quite  elated  over 
this  success,  she  began  another  story,  "  By  the 
River,"  but  one  could  never  tell  by  the  tone  of  it  how 
in  reality  she  was  bubbling  over  with  happiness  and 
hope,  for  it  is  mournful  to  a  degree,  and  sounds  like 
a  funeral  dirge.  This  was  most  unnatural  for  Lou- 
isa, who  though  a  young  woman  of  many  moods, 
was  generally  cheerful  on  paper.  She  tells  us  how 
on  meeting  Miss  Rebecca  Harding,  who  had  made 
some  stir  as  an  author,  the  two  sat  apart  and  com- 
pared notes.  Louisa  describes  her  as  "  a  handsome, 
fresh,  quiet  woman,  who  says  she  never  had  any 
troubles,  though  she  writes  about  woes.  I  told  her 
I  had  had  lots  of  troubles;  so  I  write  jolly  tales; 
and  we  wondered  why  we  each  did  so." 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.        117 

She  took  to  sewing  after  this ;  her  clever  ideas 
got  into  her  needle  quite  as  often  as  they  did  into 
her  pen.  She  made  a  beautiful  ball  dress  for  May, 
and  two  riding  habits  for  May  and  herself.  "  So 
one  of  our  dreams  came  true,"  she  says,  "  and  we 
really  did  '  dash  away  on  horseback.'  " 

Being  tall,  graceful  girls  they  must  have  looked 
well  on  horseback,  and  I  dare  say  harum-scarum  Jo 
told  the  absolute  truth  when  she  described  in  "  Lit- 
tle Women  "  how  Amy  learned  to  ride.  "  She 
used  to  practice  mounting,  holding  the  reins,  and 
sitting  straight  on  an  old  saddle  in  the  tree." 

All  the  Concord  boys  and  girls  rode  horseback, 
so  it  is  pretty  certain  that  Louisa  and  May  had 
many  a  companion  to  share  the  pleasure  of  those 
fair  spring  days.  Louisa  was  adored  by  the  young 
people  in  Concord,  especially  the  boys,  and  that  is 
perhaps  the  real  secret  of  why  she  never  married. 
She  liked  men  of  ripe  years  and  hoary  locks,  or  boys 
"  young  and  tender  "  like  those  in  Concord  or  Bos- 
ton, but  men  of  her  own  age  stirred  no  passing 
emotion.  She  tells  us  of  a  funny  lover,  aged  forty, 
who  lost  his  heart  to  her  in  the  cars.  He  was  a 
handsome  Southerner,  and  called  upon  her  to  pay 
his  addresses.  When  she  refused  to  see  him,  he 
haunted  the  road,  with  his  hat  off,  to  the  amusement 
of  her  sisters,  who  had  great  fun  over  "  Jo's  lover." 
"  My  adorers  are  all  queer,"  she  adds. 

In  the  early  part  of  May,  Theodore  Parker  died 
in  Florence,  where  he  had  gone  for  his  health.  In 


Tl8  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

June  she  went  to  Boston,  to  the  memorial  meeting 
for  him,  which  was  very  beautiful.  "  I  was  glad 
to  have  known  so  good  a  man  and  been  called 
*  friend  '  by  him." 

On  the  23d  of  May,  Anna  was  married.  Her 
uncle,  the  Rev.  S.  J.  May,  performed  the  cere- 
mony, and  in  "  Little  Women "  Miss  Alcott  has 
given  us  a  vivid  description  of  the  sweet  old- 
fashioned  wedding,  the  difference  being  that  Beth 
was  not  there,  only  the  two  comely  sisters,  in  their 
thin  gray  gowns  and  roses,  and  the  bride  in  her 
silver-gray  silk  and  little  white  bonnet,  with  the 
lilies  of  the  valley  that  her  John  loved  best. 

It  must  have  been  a  solemn  moment,  this  going 
away  of  the  eldest  daughter,  but  the  day  was  beau- 
tiful, "  the  house  full  of  sunshine,  flowers,  friends, 
and  happiness,"  and  their  parents'  wedding-day  be- 
sides. "  I  mourn  the  loss  of  my  Nan,"  says  Louisa, 
"  and  am  not  comforted."  Nevertheless,  knowing 
how  closely  smiles  followed  tears  in  Louisa's  nature, 
we  can  imagine  her  the  life  of  the  fun  and  frolic 
that  followed,  when  the  old  folks  danced  around 
the  bridal  pair  on  the  lawn,  making  a  pretty  picture 
beneath  their  Revolutionary  elm. 

"  Then  with  tears  and  kisses,  our  dear  girl  went 
happily  away  with  her  good  John,  and  we  ended 
our  first  wedding.  Mr.  Emerson  kissed  her,  and  I 
thought  that  honor  would  make  even  matrimony 
endurable,  for  he  is  the  god  of  my  idolatry,  and  has 
been  for  years." 


PROGRESS  AND  POVERTY.        119 

Though  she  might  make  merry  at  the  wedding 
feast,  she  loved  this  elder  sister  as  her  second  self, 
and  we  can  picture  Louisa,  after  the  bride's  de- 
parture, rushing  up  to  the  garret,  flinging  herself 
down  in  a  heap,  and  bedewing  the  old  chests  and 
rag  bags  with  a  few  hearty  tears. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE    SIGN    OF   THE    HORSESHOE. 


the  family  fortunes  had 
been  looking  up,  and  with  the  appoint- 
ment of  Mr.  Alcott  as  Superintendent  of 
Schools  in  Concord,  there  was  much  re- 
joicing. He  soon  began  to  change  the  order  of 
things.  Just  as  years  ago,  he  had  put  forth  new 
ideas  about  teaching,  so  with  the  same  will,  he  in- 
sisted upon  them  now.  The  children  were  always 
first  to  him,  and  they  soon  began  to  look  upon  the 
tall,  white-haired,  stately  gentleman  as  their  friend 
and  playmate.  In  Louisa's  first  letter  to  Anna  after 
her  marriage,  written  the  following  Sunday  indeed, 
she  gives  a  humorous  description  of  one  of  their 
frolics  : 

"  MRS.  PRATT  — 

"  MY  DEAR  MADAM  : 

"  The  news  of  the  town  is  as  follows,  and  I 
present  it  in  the  most  journalesque  style  of  corre- 
spondence. After  the  bridal  train  had  departed,  the 
mourners  withdrew  to  their  respective  homes;  and 
the  bereaved  family  solaced  their  woe  by  washing 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  121 

dishes  for  two  hours,  and  bolting  the  remains  of  the 
funeral  baked  meats.  At  four,  having  got  settled 
down,  we  were  all  routed  up  by  the  appearance  of 
a  long  procession  of  children  filing  down  our  lane, 
headed  by  the  Misses  H.  and  R.  Father  rushed  to 
the  cellar  and  appeared  with  a  large  basket  of  ap- 
ples, which  went  the  rounds  with  much  effect.  The 
light  infantry  formed  in  a  semi-circle,  and  was 
watered  by  the  matron  and  maids.  It  was  really  a 
pretty  sight — these  seventy  children  loaded  with 
wreaths  and  flowers,  standing  under  the  elm  in 
the  sunshine,  singing  in  full  chorus  the  song  I 
wrote  for  them  [to  the  tune  of  '  Wait  for  the 
Wagon  ']." 

Here  are  the  first  and  the  last  verses,  but  we  may 
be  sure  that  all  four  were  sung  with  a  will  by  the 
light-hearted  little  group. 

The  world  lies  fair  about  us,  and  a  friendly  sky  above, 
Our  lives  are  full  of  sunshine,  our  hearts  are  full  of  love; 
Few  cares  or  sorrows  sadden  the  beauty  of  our  day, 
We  gather  simple  pleasures,  like  daisies  by  the  way. 

Oh!  sing  with  cheery  voices, 

Like  robins  on  the  tree; 

For  little  lads  and  lasses, 

As  blithe  of  heart  should  be. 

There's  not  a  cloud  in  heaven,  but  drops  its  silent  dew, 
Nor  violet  in  the  meadow,  but  blesses  with  its  hue; 
Nor  happy  child  in  Concord,  who  may  not  do  its  part, 
To  make  the  great  world  better,  by  innocence  of  heart. 


LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Oh,  blossom  in  the  sunshine, 
Beneath  the  village  tree; 
For  little  lads  and  lasses 
Are  the  fairest  flowers  we  see. 


"  It  was  a  neat  little  compliment  to  the  Superin- 
tendent and  his  daughter,"  goes  on  Louisa  in  her 
bulletin  to  Anna,  "  who  was  glad  to  find  that  her 
'  pome  '  was  a  favorite  among  the  '  lads  and  lasses  ' 
who  sang  it  '  with  cheery  voices  like  robins  on  the 
tree.'  Father  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  spec- 
tacle, by  going  off  at  full  speed,  hoppity-skip,  and 
all  the  babes  followed  in  a  whirl  of  rapture  at  the 
idea.  He  led  them  up  and  down,  and  round  and 
round,  until  they  were  tired;  then  they  fell  into 
order,  and  with  a  farewell  song,  marched  away, 
seventy  of  the  happiest  little  ones  I  ever  wish  to 
see." 

She  goes  on  to  tell  of  a  reception  given  to  John 
Brown's  widow,  his  widowed  daughter-in-law,  and 
his  little  grandson.  The  hospitable  Alcotts  made 
preparations  for  twenty  at  the  most,  but  when  forty 
came,  she  says  "  our  neat  little  supper  turned  out  a 
regular  '  tea  fight.'  We  got  through  it,"  she  con- 
cludes, in  her  letter  to  Anna,  "  but  it  was  an  awful 
hour;  and  Mother  wandered  in  her  mind,  utterly 
lost  in  a  grove  of  teapots,  while  B.  pervaded  the 
neighborhood,  demanding  hot  water,  and  we  girls 
sowed  cake  broadcast  through  the  land." 

She  continues  with  her  description: 


THE  SIGN  OP  THE  HORSESHOE.  123 

"  When  the  plates  were  empty  and  the  teapots 
dry,  people  wiped  their  mouths  and  confessed  at  last 
that  they  had  done.  A  conversation  followed  in 
which  .  .  .  Uncle  and  Father  mildly  upset  the 
world;  .  .  .  then  some  Solomon  suggested  that  the 
Alcotts  must  be  tired,  and  everyone  departed  but  C. 
and  S.  We  had  a  polka  by  Mother  and  Uncle,  the 
lancers  by  C.  and  B.,  an  etude  by  S.,  after  which 
scrabblings  of  feast  appeared,  and  we  '  drained  the 
dregs  of  every  cup,'  all  cakes  and  pies  we  gobbled 
up,  then  peace  fell  upon  us  and  our  remains  were 
interred  decently." 

With  all  her  festive  soul  Louisa  loved  entertain- 
ments, whether  public  or  private.  She  wrote  a  song 
for  her  father's  annual  school  festival.  "  Father 
got  up  the  affair,"  she  says  in  her  journal,  "  and 
such  a  pretty  affair  was  never  seen  in  Concord  be- 
fore. He  said :  '  We  spend  much  on  our  cattle  and 
flower  shows,  let  us  each  spring  have  a  show  of  our 
children,  and  begrudge  nothing  for  their  culture.' 
The  schools  all  met  in  the  hall,  four  hundred  strong, 
a  pretty  posy-bed  with  a  border  of  proud  parents 
and  friends.  Father  was  in  glory,  like  a  happy 
shepherd  with  a  flock  of  sportive  lambs;  for  all  did 
something.  Each  school  had  its  badge — one  pink 
ribbons;  one,  green  shoulder-knots;  one,  wreaths  of 
pop-corn  on  the  curly  pates.  One  school  to  whom 
Father  had  read  '  Pilgrim's  Progress '  told  the 
story,  one  child  after  the  other  popping  up  to  say 
his  or  her  part,  and  at  the  end  a  little  tot  walked 


124  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

forward,  saying  with  a  pretty  air  of  wonder :  '  And 
behold,  it  was  all  a  dream  ' !  " 

The  children  surprised  Mr.  Alcott  on  this  oc- 
casion with  a  gift  of  George  Herbert's  "  Poems  " 
and  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  beautifully  bound,  as  a 
token  of  their  love  and  respect,  so,  as  Louisa  said, 
"  the  Alcotts  were  uplifted  in  their  vain  minds." 
It  is  wonderful  the  hold  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  al- 
ways has  on  the  minds  of  children ;  the  little  Alcott 
girls  had  heard  the  tale  from  babyhood,  and  to  every 
Concord  child  who  came  under  Mr.  Alcott's  inspec- 
tion, the  story  was  as  familiar  as  the  alphabet. 

About  this  time  the  town  was  wild  with  what 
Louisa  called  "  the  gymnastic  fever."  "  Everyone," 
she  says,  "  has  become  a  perambulating  windmill." 
It  attacked  the  young  people  fiercely.  The  boys,  no 
doubt,  thought  it  fine  training  for  the  future 
soldiers,  and  the  girls  approved  of  it  because  they 
wanted  to  show  that  Concord  had  as  much  muscle 
as  brain.  She  tells  about  this  popular  craze  in  one 
of  her  stories,  "  The  King  of  Clubs  and  the  Queen 
of  Hearts,"  which  is  the  romance  of  the  leader  of 
the  gymnasium,  and  a  very  graceful,  active  young 
pupil.  Her  opening  description  of  an  evening  class 
is  vivid  and  amusing : 

"  Five  and  twenty  ladies,  all  in  a  row,  sat  on  one 
side  of  the  hall,  looking  very  much  as  if  they  felt 
like  the  little  old  woman  who  fell  asleep  on  the 
king's  highway,  and  awoke  with  abbreviated  drap- 
ery, for  they  were  all  arrayed  in  gray  tunics,  and 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  125 

Turkish  continuations,  profusely  adorned  with 
many-colored  trimmings.  Five  and  twenty  gentle- 
men, all  in  a  row,  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
hall,  looking  somewhat  subdued,  as  men  are  apt  to 
do,  when  they  fancy  they  are  in  danger  of  making 
fools  of  themselves.  They  also  were  in  costume, 
for  all  the  dark  ones  had  grown  piratical,  in  red 
shirts,  and  the  light  ones,  nautical,  in  blue,  while 
a  few  boldly  appeared  in  white,  making  up  in  starch 
and  studs  what  they  lost  in  color,  and  all  were  more 
or  less  Byronic  as  to  collar. 

"  On  the  platform  appeared  a  pile  of  dumb-bells,  a 
regiment  of  clubs,  and  a  pyramid  of  bean-bags,  and 
stirring  nervously  among  them,  a  foreign-looking 
gentleman,  the  new  leader  of  a  class  lately  formed 
by  Dr.  Thor  Turner,  whose  mission  it  was  to 
strengthen  the  world's  spine  and  convert  it  to  a 
belief  in  air  and  exercise  by  setting  it  to  balancing 
its  poles,  and  spinning  merrily  while  enjoying  the 
'  sun-cure '  on  a  large  scale." 

"  Abby  and  I  are  among  the  pioneers,"  she  writes 
further  in  her  journal,  "  and  the  delicate  vegetable 
productions,"  meaning  the  Alcott  girls  who  never 
ate  meat,  "  clash  their  cymbals  in  private,  when 
the  beef-eating  young  ladies  faint  away." 

The  Orchard  House  guests  came  thick  and  fast, 
and  people  of  note  began  to  find  out  the  quiet 
Alcotts  and  enjoy  visiting  them.  "  Saturday," 
writes  Louisa  to  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Bond,  "  we  had  J. 
G.  Whittier,  Charlotte  Cushman,  Miss  Stebbins,  the 


126  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

sculptress,  and  Mr.  Stuart,  conductor  of  the  under- 
ground railroad  of  this  charming  free  country;  so 
you  see  our  humble  place  of  abode  is  perking  up, 
and  when  the  great  '  authoress  and  artist '  are  fairly 
out  of  the  shell,  we  shall  be  an  honor  to  the  com- 
munity and  a  terror  to  the  foe." 

After  Anna's  wedding,  Louisa  ran  up  to  Boston 
to  see  the  little  farce  she  had  written  so  many  years 
ago,  presented  at  last  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum. 
She  sat  proudly  in  a  box,  and  a  bouquet  was  handed 
to  the  author,  but  it  was  not  well  acted  after  all  the 
waiting,  much  to  her  disappointment,  so  she  turned 
to  her  stories  with  redoubled  vigor.  The  Atlantic 
took  a  great  many,  and  the  steadily  increasing  pay 
was  very  encouraging ;  it  was  delightful  to  feel  that 
when  "  Plato  needed  new  shirts,  and  Minerva  a 
pair  of  boots,  and  Hebe  a  fall  hat "  she  had  only  to 
write  a  story  with  those  praiseworthy  objects  in 
view,  and  behold!  they  would  appear.  But  there 
was  nothing  as  yet  in  these  numerous  efforts  to 
secure  any  lasting  fame. 

In  August,  1860,  she  began  to  write  "  Moods." 
She  was  full  of  it,  and  "  genius  burned  "  so  fiercely 
that  for  four  weeks  she  wrote  all  day  long,  and 
planned  all  night  long,  and  seemed  perfectly  happy 
when  at  last  the  rough  copy  of  the  book  was  "  put 
away  to  settle."  Mr.  Emerson  offered  to  read  it, 
but  the  manuscript  was  not  ready  for  inspection. 

In  October  she  writes :  "  I  went  to  Boston  and 
saw  the  Prince  of  Wales  trot  over  the  Common 


THE  SIGN  OP  THE  HORSESHOE.  127 

with  his  train  at  a  review,  a  yellow-haired  laddie 
very  like  his  mother.  Fanny  W.  and  I  nodded  and 
waved  as  he  passed,  and  he  openly  winked  his  boy- 
ish eye  at  us,  for  Fanny  with  her  yellow  curls  and 
wild  waving  looked  rather  rowdy,  and  the  poor  lit- 
tle prince  wanted  some  fun.  We  laughed  and 
thought  we  had  been  more  distinguished  by  the 
saucy  wink  than  by  a  stately  bow.  Boys  are  always 
jolly — even  princes." 

About  this  time  Mrs.  Alcott  paid  a  visit  to  her 
brother,  and  Louisa  was  left  housekeeper.  With  her 
usual  energy  she  gave  her  whole  mind  to  her  home 
duties  and  "  dreamed  dip-toast,  talked  apple-sauce, 
thought  pies,  and  wept  drop-cakes."  Anna  came 
up  to  cheer  her  in  her  struggles,  and  "  Moods  "  was 
brought  out,  read,  laughed  and  cried  over.  "  So  I 
felt  encouraged,"  writes  Louisa,  "  and  will  touch  it 
up  when  duty  no  longer  orders  me  to  make  a  burnt- 
offering  of  myself." 

Her  twenty-eighth  birthday  she  celebrated  at 
home  with  her  father,  and  they  exchanged  gifts. 
He  gave  her  Emerson's  picture,  and  she  gave  him 
a  ream  of  paper,  so  both  were  pleased. 

May,  the  luck  child,  received  a  gift  of  money  for 
drawing  lessons,  so  she  went  to  Boston  to  take  them. 
"  She  is  one  of  the  fortunate  ones  and  gets  what  she 
wants  easily,"  writes  Louisa.  "  I  have  to  grub  for 
my  help  or  go  without  it.  Good  for  me,  doubt- 
less, or  it  wouldn't  be  so;  so  cheer  up,  Louisa,  and 
grind  away ! " 


I28  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

May's  good  fortune  still  continued;  she  wanted 
to  go  to  Syracuse  to  teach,  and  was  able  to  secure 
a  position  at  once.  Louisa  dropped  everything  to 
"  sew  like  a  steam-engine  "  getting  her  ready,  and 
went  to  Boston  with  her  to  see  her  safely  on  her 
way.  From  that  time  these  two  sisters  drew  very 
close  together.  Louisa's  big  heart  ached  for  some- 
thing to  take  care  of,  to  fill  the  place  made  vacant 
by  Elizabeth's  death.  She  was  proud  of  May's 
talent  and  of  her  social  success,  gloried  in  her  grace 
and  beauty,  and,  as  usual,  forgot  herself  in  working 
for  others. 

Emerson  invited  her  to  his  class  when  they  met 
to  talk  on  genius,  and  Louisa  was  much  pleased  at 
the  honor,  "  as  all, the  learned  ladies  go."  She  was 
also  asked  to  the  John  Brown  meeting,  but  she  did 
not  go  though  she  sent  a  "  pome  "  instead,  which 
was  published  in  the  paper.  "  Not  good,"  she 
writes,  "  I'm  a  better  patriot  than  poet,  and  couldn't 
say  what  I  felt." 

The  following  Christmas  was  very  quiet.  "  No 
merry-making;  for  Nan  and  May  were  gone,  and 
Betty  under  the  snow.  But  we  are  used  to  hard 
times,  and  as  Mother  says :  '  while  there  is  a  famine 
in  Kansas,  we  mustn't  ask  for  sugar-plums.'  All  the 
philosophy  in  our  house  is  not  in  the  study ;  a  good 
deal  is  in  the  kitchen,  where  a  fine  old  lady  thinks 
high  thoughts  and  does  fine  deeds  while  she  cooks 
and  scrubs." 

Early  in  January  she  started  work  on  a  new  book. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  129 

"  Success  "  she  called  it  at  first,  but  ten  years  later 
when  it  made  its  bow  to  the  public,  it  was  called 
"  Work."  Unfortunately  she  had  scarcely  started 
when  Mrs.  Alcott  had  another  severe  illness,  so 
Louisa  corked  up  her  inkstand  and  turned  nurse. 
Alas !  it  was  not  the  time  of  fountain  pens — or  even 
of  decent  steel  ones — else  we  might  have  found  this 
energetic  young  woman,  with  pad  upon  her  knee, 
scribbling  away  in  the  "  wee  sma'  hours  "  at  the 
invalid's  bedside.  However,  Mrs.  Alcott's  strong 
constitution  pulled  her  through  safely,  and  the 
household  rejoiced. 

"  Father  had  four  talks  at  Emerson's,"  she  writes 
a  little  later.  "  Good  people  came  and  he  enjoyed 
them  much ;  made  thirty  dollars ;  Emerson  probably 
put  in  twenty.  He  has  a  sweet  way  of  bestowing 
gifts — on  the  table,  under  a  book,  or  behind  a 
candlestick,  when  he  thinks  Father  wants  a  little 
money  and  no  one  will  help  him  earn.  A  true  friend 
is  this  tender,  illustrious  man." 

In  February,  1861,  she  started  again  on 
"Moods";  she  worked  from  the  second  to  the 
twenty-fifth,  scarcely  stopping  to  eat  or  drink. 
Sleeping  was  impossible,  and  for  three  days  she  did 
not  even  take  time  to  get  up  in  the  morning,  but 
wrote,  wrote,  wrote,  scattering  papers  like  a  bil- 
lowy sea  around  her.  On  these  days  she  wore  a 
green  silk  cap  with  a  red  bow,  and  an  old  green  and 
red  party  wrap,  which  she  wound  around  her  as  a 
cloak."  She  could  not  eat  regularly,  so  her 


!3o  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

mother  brought  her  cups  of  tea,  and  her  father  red 
apples  and  his  very  best  cider,  while  she  scribbled 
on  in  her  "  grove  "  of  manuscripts,  "  living  for  im- 
mortality "  as  May  said.  Concord  was  having  its 
winter  fun,  but  little  she  cared;  when  in  a  "  vor- 
tex," nothing  mattered. 

This  sort  of  thing  could  not  go  on  forever ;  even 
Louisa's  hardy  frame  broke  down.  Her  head  was 
dizzy,  her  legs  shaky,  and  there  was  no  sleep  for 
the  rampant  busy  mind,  so  she  dropped  her  pen, 
"  took  long  walks,  cold  baths,  and  had  Nan  up  to 
frolic  with  me.  Read  all  I  had  done  to  my  family, 
and  father  said :  *  Emerson  must  see  this.  Where 
did  you  get  your  metaphysics  ? '  Mother  pro- 
nounced it  wonderful,  and  Anna  laughed  and  cried 
as  she  always  does  over  my  works,  saying :  '  My 
dear,  I'm  proud  of  you/  So  I  had  a  good  time, 
even  if  it  never  comes  to  anything,  for  it  was  worth 
something  to  have  my  three  dearest  sit  up  till  mid- 
night, listening  with  wide-open  eyes  to  Lu's  first 
novel."  This  home  praise  was  very  precious  to  her, 
and,  one  and  all,  they  rallied  around  "  Moods,"  in- 
sisting on  its  greatness  through  all  its  subsequent 
trials.  For  years  Louisa  wrestled  with  this,  her  pet 
child,  loved  more  tenderly  after  each  cuff  the  cruel 
world  gave  it.  In  "  Little  Women "  we  cannot 
help  sympathizing  with  poor  Jo,  who  "  with  Spar- 
tan firmness  laid  her  first-born  on  the  table  and 
chopped  it  up  as  ruthlessly  as  any  ogre.  In  the  hope 
of  pleasing  everyone,  she  took  everyone's  advice; 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  131 

and,  like  the  old  man  and  his  donkey  in  the  fable, 
suited  nobody." 

"  Her  father  liked  the  metaphysical  streak  which 
had  unconsciously  got  into  it,  so  it  was  allowed  to 
remain  though  she  had  her  doubts  about  it;  her 
mother  thought  there  was  a  trifle  too  much  descrip- 
tion; out,  therefore,  it  nearly  all  came,  and  with  it 
many  necessary  links  in  the  story.  Meg  admired 
the  tragedy;  so  Jo  piled  up  the  agony  to  suit  her; 
while  Amy  objected  to  the  fun,  and  with  the  best 
intentions  in  life,  Jo  quenched  the  sprightly  scenes, 
which  relieved  the  somber  character  of  the  story. 
Then,  to  complete  the  ruin,  she  cut  it  down  one 
third,  and  confidingly  sent  the  poor  little  romance 
like  a  picked  robin,  out  into  the  big,  busy  world,  to 
try  its  fate. 

"  Well,  it  was  printed,  and  she  got  three  hun- 
dred dollars  for  it;  likewise  plenty  of  praise  and 
blame,  both  so  much  greater  than  she  expected  that 
she  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  bewilderment,  from 
which  it  took  her  some  time  to  recover." 

Up  to  this  time,  Louisa  had  succeeded  so  well 
with  her  shorter  romances  that  she  fondly  believed 
her  highest  ambition  would  be  gratified  in  writing 
a  novel.  Her  plot  is  interesting  enough,  her  writing 
is  excellent,  but  no  one  should  read  "  Moods  "  by 
way  of  introduction  to  Miss  Alcott.  There  is  not 
a  natural  character  in  the  story.  Sylvia,  the  heroine, 
the  child  of  moods,  was  intended  by  Miss  Alcott 
to  be  a  portrait  of  herself;  but  any  two  beings  more 


I32  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

unlike  than  the  willful,  beautiful,  unreasonable,  wild 
little  Sylvia,  and  the  sane  practical,  dependable,  self- 
reliant  Louisa,  could  scarcely  be  conceived;  their 
ideas  of  right  and  wrong  were  totally  opposed. 
Louisa  had  moods  it  is  true,  but  she  also  had  the 
power  to  suppress  them,  so  that  they  should  not 
cause  unhappiness  to  others,  and  just  as  Jo  met 
Apollyon  in  "  Little  Women,"  so  Louisa  wrestled 
with  her  darker  self;  but  Sylvia  never  wrestled — 
she  let  herself  go,  and  dragged  others  with  her. 

The  only  point  of  resemblance  between  the  two 
girls  was  in  their  remarkable  dramatic  gift;  Sylvia 
being  even  more  talented  than  Louisa,  if  we  can 
believe  the  too-partial  author.  At  any  rate  the  book 
is  not  the  wholesome  food  Miss  Alcott  usually  gives 
us,  and  though  it  was  her  first  effort  and  was 
counted  praiseworthy  by  many,  it  should  be  read 
among  the  last  of  her  works  by  those  who  truly 
wish  to  know  her  at  her  best. 

Louisa's  heroines  had  a  strong  leaning  to  the 
stage,  which  was  very  natural,  all  things  considered. 
Even  her  last  book,  "  Jo's  Boys,"  contains  a  stage- 
struck  little  Josie,  who  is  a  more  lifelike  image 
of  Louisa  in  her  youth  than  many  of  her  earlier 
portraits.  She  saw  herself  and  her  simple  efforts 
more  clearly  in  her  later  years,  when  her  dramatic 
ambition  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

For  a  time  "  Moods  "  was  laid  away  to  "  sim- 
mer," for  in  April,  war  was  declared  between  the 
North  and  South,  and  Concord  sent  her  company 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  133 

of  soldier  boys  to  Washington.  "  A  busy  time  get- 
ting them  ready,"  writes  Louisa,  "  and  a  sad  day 
seeing  them  off,  for  in  a  little  town  like  this  we  all 
seem  one  family  in  times  like  these.  At  the  sta- 
tion, the  scene  was  very  dramatic  as  the  brave  boys 
went  away,  perhaps  never  to  come  back  again.  I've 
often  longed  to  see  a  war,  and  now  I  have  my 
wish.  I  long  to  be  a  man;  but  as  I  can't  fight,  I 
will  content  myself  with  working  for  those  who 
can." 

John  Brown's  daughters  came  to  board  with  them 
at  a  time  when  Louisa's  head  was  crammed  with 
stories  and  plots,  and  she  was  forced  to  lay  aside 
her  pen  and  turn  to  housekeeping.  It  was  a  great 
disappointment,  but  she  "  had  it  out "  with  herself 
up  in  the  garret,  on  her  favorite  fat  rag-bag,  and 
felt  better  when  her  "  fit  of  woe  "  was  over. 

Her  little  spare  time'  was  spent  in  sewing  for 
the  soldiers,  with  an  occasional  run  into  Boston  or  a 
visit  to  Anna  in  the  "  dove-cot "  in  Chelsea.  May 
came  home  in  July,  delighted  with  her  first  year's 
experience,  and  lucky  in  securing  a  position  as  draw- 
ing teacher  in  Sanborn's  school  for  the  coming  year. 
It  was  a  delight  to  Louisa  to  have  her  home  for 
many  reasons;  she  had  a  great  flow  of  spirits,  and 
her  social  graces  made  her  quite  a  belle.  This 
brought  a  great  deal  of  outside  life  and  breeziness 
into  the  old  house,  and  gave  Louisa  many  a  chance 
to  run  away  when  the  restless  spirit  urged  her.  In 
1862,  at  the  suggestion  of  Elizabeth  P.  Peabody, 


I34  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

she  was  persuaded  to  open  a  kindergarten  in  Bos- 
ton. It  was  her  last  venture  in  teaching,  and  under- 
taken very  much  against  her  will,  out  of  friendship 
for  Miss  Peabody,  and  a  very  natural  desire  to  make 
money.  But  it  was  too  early  for  kindergartens; 
parents  had  not  yet  learned  their  value  for  very 
little  children,  and  Louisa  found  it  hard,  unprofita- 
ble work,  for  the  school  did  not  make  enough  to 
pay  her  board  and  an  assistant  she  was  forced  to 
have. 

She  went  to  and  from  Concord  each  day ;  whether 
walking  or  riding,  it  made  no  difference,  forty  miles 
a  day  was  dull  work,  but  home  was  at  the  end  of 
the  struggle,  which  was  some  comfort  at  least.  In 
April  she  writes :  "  I  gave  it  up,  as  I  could  do  so 
much  better  at  something  else.  May  took  my  place 
for  a  month,  that  I  might  keep  my  part  of  the 
bargain;  and  I  cleaned  house  and  wrote  a  story, 
which  made  more  than  all  my  months  of  teach- 
ing. They  ended  in  a  wasted  winter  and  a  debt 
of  forty  dollars — to  be  paid  if  I  sell  my  hair  to 
do  it." 

This  forty  dollars  had  been  advanced  to  her  for 
school  fittings,  by  Mr.  Fields  of  Boston,  who  rubbed 
her  up  the  wrong  way  by  remarking :  "  Stick  to 
your  teaching;  you  can't  write."  She  replied  with 
her  customary  spirit :  "  I  won't  teach ;  and  I  can 
write,  and  I'll  prove  it." 

She  saw  a  good  deal  of  Boston  society  that  win- 
ter, but  the  "  great  beings  "  did  not  impress  her. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  135 

She  had  lived  too  much  in  the  fine  Concord  atmos- 
phere to  be  caught  by  mere  social  glitter,  and  she 
found  out,  too,  that  in  many  cases  she  was  asked 
to  visit  people  because  of  her  power  to  entertain 
them,  which  independent  Louisa  resented  with  all 
her  honest  soul. 

Mr.  Lowell's  praise  of  the  tales  she  sent  to  the 
Atlantic  always  tuned  her  up  to  higher  efforts;  they 
were  never  great  efforts,  but  as  she  says  in  her 
journal :  "  I  enjoy  romancing  to  suit  myself ;  and 
though  my  tales  are  silly,  they  are  not  bad ;  and  my 
sinners  always  have  a  good  spot  somewhere.  I  hope 
it  is  good  drill  for  fancy  and  language,  for  I  can 
do  it  fast;  and  Mr.  Lowell  says  my  tales  are  so 
'  dramatic,  vivid,  and  full  of  plot/  they  are  just 
what  he  wants." 

There  were  very  few  writers  of  short  stories  in 
those  times,  and  very  few  magazines  which  accepted 
such  wares;  the  weeklies  took  tales  of  adventure 
and  romance,  such  as  Louisa  wrote  in  her  young 
enthusiasm,  but  short-story  writing  in  itself  was 
not  the  art  it  is  to-day,  and  Miss  Alcott's  early 
contributions,  while  much  better  than  the  average 
story  of  that  period,  fall  far  short  of  the  average 
story  of  the  present.  She  was  quick  enough  to  feel 
this  herself,  but  the  editors  were  only  too  anx- 
ious to  get  stories  of  earnest  purpose  and  real 
people. 

September  and  October  were  uneventful  months  ; 
working  for  the  soldiers,  writing  thrilling  tales  in 
10 


136  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

a  state  of  suppressed  excitement,  for  the  war  news 
was  bad.  "  Anxious  faces,  beating  hearts,  and  busy 
minds,"  she  writes.  "  I  like  the  stir  in  the  air  and 
long  for  battle,  like  a  war-horse  when  he  smells 
powder.  The  blood  of  the  Mays  is  up !  " 

Her  thirtieth  birthday  in  November  occurred  at 
home,  in  the  midst  of  preparations  for  any  sudden 
call  to  Washington,  whither  she  had  decided  to  go 
as  a  hospital  nurse.  This  was,  though  she  never 
dreamed  it  at  the  time  the  turning-point  in  her 
career. 

On  this  particular  occasion  her  friends,  far  and 
near,  remembered  her  birthday  with  loving  gifts. 
Her  neighbors,  the  Hawthornes,  with  whom,  from 
the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  she  was  a  great  favorite, 
sent  her  a  package,  for  which  she  thanked  them  in 
the  following  verses : 

The  Hawthorne  is  a  gracious  tree, 

From  latest  twig  to  parent  root, 
For  when  all  others  leafless  stand, 

It  gayly  blossoms  and  bears  fruit. 
On  certain  days  a  friendly  wind, 

Wafts  from  its  spreading  boughs  a  store 
Of  canny  gifts  that  flutter  in, 

Like  snowflakes  at  a  neighbor's  door. 

The  spinster  who  has  just  been  blessed, 
Finds  solemn  thirty  much  improved 

By  proofs  that  such  a  crabbed  soul 
Is  still  remembered  and  beloved. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  137 

Kind  wishes  "Ancient  Lu"  has  stored 
In  the  "best  chamber"  of  her  heart, 

And  every  gift  on  Fancy's  stage, 
Already  plays  its  little  part. 

Long  may  it  stand,  the  friendly  tree, 

That  blooms  in  Autumn  and  in  Spring, 
Beneath  whose  shade  the  humblest  bird 

May  safely  sit,  may  gratefully  sing. 
Time  will  give  it  an  evergreen  name, 

Age  cannot  harm  it — frost  cannot  kill; 
With  Emerson's  pine  and  Thoreau's  oak, 

Will  the  Hawthorne  be  loved  and  honored  still! 

When  the  call  came  at  last,  all  Concord  was  as 
much  excited  as  if  a  real  company  of  soldiers  was 
marching  to  battle,  and  indeed  it  was  heroic  of 
Louisa,  though  she  would  have  been  the  last  person 
to  place  herself  upon  a  pedestal.  It  meant  a  sacri- 
fice of  health  and  strength,  but  no  thought  of  self 
would  have  held  her  back.  She  gave  what  she  had 
to  give  and  gave  it  gladly.  "  I  am  sending  my  only 
son  to  the  war,"  said  her  father,  and  truly  a  son's 
heart  beat  courageously  under  the  despised  "bib 
and  tucker,"  as  Louisa  set  out  on  her  perilous 
journey. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

LOUISA   TO   THE   FRONT. 

1ERTAINLY  never  until  the  moment  of 
starting  did  the  full  meaning  of  the 
word  separation  dawn  upon  Louisa. 
The  summons  from  Washington  came 
on  December  nth,  and  the  new  nurse  was  ordered 
to  start  for  Georgetown  the  very  next  day  and  re- 
port at  the  Union  Hotel  Hospital,  where  there  was 
a  vacancy.  It  was  a  hard  post,  but  though  disap- 
pointed at  not  being  called  to  Washington,  Louisa 
had  no  idea  of  drawing  back."  This  offer  of  her 
services  came  from  her  heart;  it  was  a  bit  of  her 
religion  and  her  patriotism,  and  so  she  and  her 
family  and  friends  fell  to  work  on  final  prepara- 
tions, with  all  the  enthusiasm  that  Concord  and 
its  surroundings  could  produce.  May  and  young 
Julian  Hawthorne  were  to  be  the  guards  of  honor 
to  the  depot,  and  when  the  last  good-bys  were 
said,  and  the  last  flutter  of  handkerchiefs  was  lost 
to  view  at  the  turn  of  the  road,  this  brave  young 
woman  realized,  as  never  before,  what  the  parting 
meant  to  them  all.  She  might  never  come  back. 
The  wards  of  the  hospitals  were  deadly  to  many  a 
138 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  139 

strong  constitution,  and  the  accommodations,  even 
for  the  sick  and  wounded  who  needed  immediate 
attention,  were  of  the  poorest. 

Mr.  Alcott's  philosophy,  as  sincere  as  it  was  wise, 
helped  him  truly  in  this  painful  hour.  But  the 
mother's  full  heart  overflowed  as  she  held  this 
beloved  daughter  close. 

"  How  can  I  let  you  go !  "  she  cried  in  passionate 
protest,  but  the  next  moment  the  brave  woman 
smiled  through  her  tears.  Louisa  was  her  only 
"  son,"  and  she  would  have  sent  a  dozen  to  the 
war  if  she  had  had  them.  "  Go,  and  God  be  with 
you,"  she  said,  and  so  in  the  twilight  of  a  muddy, 
dismal  day  Louisa  and  her  escort  tramped  to  the 
village  depot,  brave  enough  outwardly,  but  de- 
pressed in  spirit. 

Had  she  been  alone,  Louisa  might  have  shed  a 
few  natural  tears,  but  May,  who  was  very  much 
in  the  same  state,  would  have  given  way  entirely 
at  the  first  breakdown,  and  as  Julian  Hawthorne 
was  only  sixteen  and  much  impressed  by  the  hero- 
ism already  displayed,  both  sisters  were  on  their 
mettle,  and  the  good-bys  were  said  as  simply  and 
quietly  as  if  the  going  off  as  an  army  nurse  were 
an  ordinary  occurrence. 

After  a  wearing  day  in  Boston,  rushing  from 
pillar  to  post  in  search  of  a  free  pass,  paying  visits 
to  interested  relatives,  calling  for  parcels  here  and 
there,  dining  in  between,  Louisa  found  herself  at 
last  seated  in  the  car,  waving  good-by  to  a  tearful 


I40  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

group  at  the  station  as  the  train  pulled  out  and  she 
was  fairly  started  on  her  pilgrimage. 

"  A  long  journey,"  she  calls  it,  from  Boston  to 
Washington,  and  it  probably  was,  in  those  days  of 
war  and  uncertain  traffic.  From  Boston  she  went 
to  New  London,  thence  by  the  night-boat  to  Jersey 
City.  She  was  not  a  traveler,  having  seldom  ven- 
tured out  of  Massachusetts.  Boats  were  "  rare 
birds  "  to  her,  and  remembering  an  old  prediction 
that  she  "was  born  to  be  drowned,"  the  idea  of 
sleeping  in  a  berth  struck  terror  to  her  soul.  She 
made  all  sorts  of  funny  preparations  in  case  of  sud- 
den and  immediate  danger,  and  finally,  as  she  tells 
us  in  "  Hospital  Sketches,"  remembering  that  at 
the  swimming-school  the  fat  girls  always  floated 
best,  she  pinned  her  hope  of  future  safety  to  a 
certain  plump  old  lady  who  shared  the  cabin  with 
her.  Boats  were  not  arranged  for  pitching  and 
tumbling  as  they  are  these  days,  when  everything 
is  fastened  securely  in  place,  and  poor  Louisa  spent 
a  restless  night,  between  her  fears  and  the  noise 
made  by  the  various  articles  constantly  falling  off 
the  shelf  at  the  foot  of  her  bed. 

At  seven  the  next  morning  she  found  herself  in 
the  cars  again  at  Jersey  City;  very  close,  crowded, 
dingy  cars,  with  a  stove  at  one  end,  with  swinging 
oil  lamps,  smoky  and  ill  kept.  Sometimes  there  was 
a  water  jar,  but  often  a  passenger  had  to  look  for- 
ward from  station  to  station  for  an  opportunity 
to  quench  his  thirst.  Everywhere  was  noise,  bustle, 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT. 


141 


and  confusion,  and  comforts  were  not  looked  for 
in  those  war  times.  Indeed,  Louisa  was  glad  to 
have  a  seat  to  herself,  whereon  she  could  bestow 
the  numerous  bags  and  bundles  with  which  she  was 
laden.  She  did  not  reach  Washington,  which  was 
the  end  of  the  railroad  journey,  until  dark,  having 
been  two  days  and  one  night  on  the  way  from  Bos- 
ton to  Washington,  a  trip  that  can  now  be  made  in 
a  day. 

Georgetown  was  only  driving  distance  from  the 
capital,  and  Louisa  was  very  impatient  to  reach  her 
destination.  Signs  of  the  war  had  met  her  every- 
where. There  were  military  posts  along  the  route ; 
troops  of  soldiers  were  drilling  and  marching  in  the 
barren  fields ;  once  she  saw  a  body  of  cavalry  prac- 
ticing in  the  open,  and  everywhere  men's  eager  ex- 
cited voices  talked  of  the  last  battle  or  the  coming 
attack. 

At  last  they  drove  up  before  the  door  of  the  hos- 
pital, which  loomed  out  of  the  darkness,  with  the 
Union  flag  flying  high  above  it,  and  springing  out 
of  the  carriage  she  ran  up  the  steps  with  all  the 
energy  of  her  enthusiasm.  As  she  passed  beneath 
the  frowning  portals,  she  little  knew  that  she  had 
left  outside  forever  the  perfect  health  and  the  iron 
constitution  that  mere  hardship  and  privation  could 
never  impair.  But  the  bad  ventilation,  the  poor 
food,  accompanying  the  sleepless  days  and  nights, 
and  the  pitiful  plight  of  the  wounded  and  dying, 
did  their  evil  work  in  six  weeks'  time,  when  this 


I42  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

bravest  of  soldiers  was  herself  "  ordered  home  on 
sick  leave." 

No  period  of  her  life  was  richer  in  impressions, 
and  up  to  that  time  no  period  of  her  life  ever  reaped 
a  fuller  harvest.  Her  diary,  which  she  kept  regu- 
larly, and  the  letters  she  sent  home,  were  teeming 
with  innumerable  experiences  and  anecdotes,  all 
written  with  her  usual  vigor  and  often  full  of 
pathos.  What  she  wrote  was  kept,  pieced  together, 
and  afterwards  published  by  F.  B.  Sanborn  in 
the  Commonwealth,  as  a  series  of  sketches  which 
we  know  to-day  under  the  title  "  Hospital 
Sketches." 

Hitherto  her  stories  had  been  mere  "  pot-boilers," 
as  she  often  called  them — romantic  tales,  not  always 
true  to  life,  with  sometimes  almost  impossible  situa- 
tions, written,  indeed,  chiefly  for  the  much-needed 
money.  Now  she  had  no  thought  of  gain,  gener- 
ously giving  all  that  was  best  in  her  to  a  noble  cause, 
she  put  life  into  the  daily  jottings  which  afterwards 
took  such  vivid  shape. 

We  follow  Nurse  Periwinkle  in  and  out  of  the 
hospital  wards,  seeing  with  her  eyes,  hearing  with 
her  ears,  knowing  that  all  the  sights  and  sounds 
are  real,  laughing  with  her,  crying  with  her,  mourn- 
ing with  her,  as  she  gently  folds  some  dead  sol- 
dier's quiet  hands  and  cuts  a  lock  of  his  hair  for  his 
mother  or  his  wife.  It  was  a  hard  life,  but  a  rich 
one  in  many  ways,  and  in  spite  of  the  trials  it 
brought  her,  Louisa  would  not  have  given  up  that 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  143 

six  weeks'  experience  for  all  the  other  years  of  her 
usefulness. 

She  paints  a  fine  picture  of  her  first  busy  day  at 
the  hospital,  when  forty  ambulances  deposited  their 
load  of  wounded  soldiers,  fresh  from  Fredericks- 
burg.  Even  in  describing  the  horrors  her  rich 
humor  breaks  out,  and  we  laugh  blithely  in  the 
midst  of  our  shuddering.  The  first  duty  of  the 
nurses  was  to  wash  the  dirty,  bedraggled  heroes. 
She  was  rather  daunted  when  the  head  nurse  issued 
the  order,  and  says  in  her  "  Hospital  Sketches  " : 

"  If  she  had  requested  me  to  shave  them  all,  or 
dance  a  hornpipe  on  the  stove-funnel,  I  should  have 
been  less  staggered,  but  to  scrub  some  dozen  lords 
of  creation  at  a  moment's  notice  was  really — 
really —  However,  there  was  no  time  for  non- 
sense, and  having  resolved,  when  I  came,  to  do 
everything  I  was  bid,  I  drowned  my  scruples  in  my 
washbowl,  clutched  my  soap  manfully,  and  assum- 
ing a  businesslike  air,  made  a  dab  at  the  first  dirty 
specimen  I  saw,  bent  on  performing  my  task.  .  .  . 
Some  of  them  took  the  performance  like  sleepy  chil- 
dren, leaning  their  tired  heads  against  me  as  I 
worked,  others  looked  grimly  scandalized,  and  sev- 
eral of  the  roughest  colored  like  bashful  girls." 

It  was  among  the  first  lot  that  Miss  Alcott  found 
her  little  sergeant.  "  Baby  B."  she  called  him,  and 
paid  many  a  glowing  tribute  in  her  "  sketches " 
to  this  hero,  who  lost  an  arm  and  a  leg  in  the  scrim- 
mage. Then  there  was  Billy,  the  twelve-year-old 


144  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

drummer-boy,  and  John,  "  the  manliest  man  among 
my  forty,"  says  Nurse  Periwinkle,  a  sturdy  Vir- 
ginia blacksmith,  shot  in  the  back,  to  whom  her 
heart  went  out ;  and  many  another  Tom,  Dick,  and 
Harry,  legless,  armless,  and  otherwise  maimed, 
looked  upon  the  comely  face  of  Nurse  Periwinkle 
and  blessed  her  as  she  moved  from  cot  to  cot. 

These  tender  stories  of  true  life  might  well  touch 
hearts  of  stone.  A  generation  ago,  perhaps,  it  was 
all  too  fresh  in  the  minds  of  many,  these  simple  de- 
tails of  suffering  and  death ;  but  their  children,  and 
their  children's  children,  whether  from  the  North  or 
the  South,  will  find  much  of  homely  beauty  in  these 
records;  there  is  no  attempt  at  fine  writing,  which 
makes  them  all  the  stronger,  but  a  sincere  desire  to 
show  things  as  they  really  were  in  those  sad  war 
days,  and  surely  never  up  to  this  time  had  finer 
work  come  from  her  pen.  Perhaps  the  best  of  all 
were  her  lines  on  "  Thoreau's  Flute,"  composed  in 
the  hospital  during  the  watches  of  the  night,  and, 
as  usual,  when  she  put  her  heart  into  a  thing,  it 
grew  in  beauty.  This  good  friend  of  hers  had  died 
the  May  before,  truly  mourned  by  the  many  who 
knew  and  loved  him.  He  was  a  great  loss  to  Con- 
cord, among  all  people  and  classes,  and  on  the  day 
of  his  funeral  throngs  came  to  show  their  respect. 
His  coffin  was  covered  with  wild  flowers,  and  many 
beautiful  things  were  said  of  him  by  his  friends. 

After  his  death,  his  flute,  which  he  played  so 
sweetly,  hung  idle  in  his  room,  until  one  summer 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  145 

night  a  breeze  stole  through  the  window  into  the 
hollow  of  the  flute,  and  "  Thoreau's  Voice  "  spoke 
to  those  who  thought  it  stilled  forever.  The  strange 
beauty  of  the  idea  took  hold  of  Louisa,  and  the 
following  exquisite  lines  show  alike  how  well  she 
loved  him,  how  much  she  missed  him,  and  how 
fondly  she  believed  that  Nature  herself  would  cher- 
ish his  memory : 

THOREAU'S  FLUTE. 

We  sighing  said,  "Our  Pan  is  dead; 

His  pipe  hangs  mute  beside  the  river; 

Around  it  wistful  sunbeams  quiver, 
But  Music's  airy  voice  is  fled. 
Spring  mourns  as  for  untimely  frost; 

The  bluebird  chants  a  requiem; 

The  willow-blossom  waits  for  him — 
The  Genius  of  the  wood  is  lost." 

Then  from  the  flute,  untouched  by  hands, 
There  came  a  low  harmonious  breath: 
"For  such  as  he  there  is  no  death; — 

His  life  the  eternal  life  commands; 

Above  man's  aims  his  nature  rose. 
The  wisdom  of  a  just  content 
Made  one  small  spot  a  continent, 

And  turned  to  poetry  life's  prose. 

"Haunting  the  hills,  the  stream,  the  wild, 
Swallow  and  aster,  lake  and  pine, 
To  him  grew  human  or  divine — 

Fit  mates  for  this  large-hearted  child. 


146  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT 

Such  homage  Nature  ne'er  forgets, 
And  yearly  on  the  coverlid 
'Neath  which  her  darling  lieth  hid, 

Will  write  his  name  in  violets. 

"  To  him  no  vain  regrets  belong, 
Whose  soul,  that  finer  instrument, 
Gave  to  the  world  no  poor  lament, 

But  wood-notes  ever  sweet  and  strong. 

O  lonely  friend!  he  still  will  be, 
A  potent  presence,  though  unseen — 
Steadfast,  sagacious,  and  serene; 

Seek  not  for  him — he  is  with  thee." 

But  it  was  not  all  sadness  at  the  hospital ;  among 
the  convalescents,  Louisa's  healthful  presence  and 
cheery  companionship  did  much  to  help  the  long 
days  of  waiting  for  discharge.  She  had  come 
equipped  with  games  and  books  for  the  amusement 
of  her  patients — her  favorite  Dickens  among  the  lat- 
ter— and  there  were  hilarious  times  in  the  old  ward 
when  Louisa  read  aloud  or  acted  some  favorite  part 
in  her  own  dashing  way.  It  was  certainly  charac- 
teristic of  this  young  woman  of  moods  that,  after 
breaking  her  heart  and  crying  her  eyes  out  in  one 
ward,  she  would  rush  to  her  room,  bathe  her  face, 
smooth  her  hair,  catch  up  her  Dickens,  and  fly  to 
the  other,  whence  in  a  few  moments  her  voice  rang 
out  and  the  "  boys'  "  hearty  laughter  chimed  in. 

Small  wonder,  then,  that  the  men  adored  her, 
that  the  nurses  deferred  to  her,  that  the  doctors  de- 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT,  147 

pended  on  her,  and  so  eager  and  enthusiastic  was 
she  over  her  work  that  she  did  not  recognize  when 
her  own  strength  began  to  fail.  It  was  for  those 
around  her  to  notice  her  lagging  step,  her  loss  of 
sleep  and  appetite,  her  feverish  activity. 

The  doctors  ordered  her  off  duty,  mildly  at  first, 
and  then  commandingly,  as  advice  seemed  unheed- 
ed. But  at  last,  as  she  tells  us  in  "  Hospital 
Sketches,"  Nurse  Periwinkle  surrendered.  "  I  felt," 
she  said,  "  if  I  didn't  make  a  masterly  retreat  very 
soon,  I  should  tumble  down  somewhere  and  have 
to  be  borne  ignominiously  from  the  field.  My  head 
felt  like  a  cannon-ball;  my  feet  had  a  tendency  to 
cleave  to  the  floor;  the  walls  at  times  undulated  in  a 
most  disagreeable  manner;  people  locked  unnat- 
urally big;  the  very  bottles  on  the  mantelpiece  ap- 
peared to  dance  derisively  before  my  eyes.  ...  I 
resolved  to  retire  gracefully  if  I  must;  so  with  a 
valedictory  to  my  boys  .  .  .  and  a  fervent  wish 
that  I  could  take  off  my  body  and  work  in  my  soul, 
I  ascended  to  my  apartment,  and  Nurse  P.  was  re- 
ported off  duty." 

Even  then  she  refused  to  be  put  on  the  sick  list, 
but  for  days  kept  up,  coughing  and  heavy-eyed, 
while  a  slow,  unsubdued  fever  burned  her  flesh. 
The  doctors  saw  her  daily,  tapped  her  lungs  and 
shook  their  heads.  At  last  Nurse  Periwinkle  "  gave 
in."  She  says :  "  Hours  began  to  get  confused ; 
people  looked  odd;  queer  faces  haunted  the  room, 
and  the  nights  were  one  long  fight  with  weariness 


148  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

and  pain.  Letters  from  home  grew  anxious;  the 
doctors  lifted  their  eyebrows  and  nodded  omi- 
nously ;  friends  said,  '  Don't  stay,'  but  the  three 
months  were  not  out,  and  the  idea  of  giving  up  so 
soon  was  proclaiming  a  defeat  before  I  was  fairly 
routed ;  so  to  all  '  Don't  stays '  I  opposed  '  I  wills,' 
until  one  fine  morning  a  gray-headed  gentleman 
rose  like  a  welcome  ghost  on  my  hearth,  and  at 
sight  of  him  my  resolution  melted  away,  my  heart 
turned  traitor  to  my  boys,  and  when  he  said,  '  Come 
home/  I  answered,  '  Yes,  Father  ' ;  and  so  ended  my 
career  as  an  army  nurse." 

Indeed,  Nurse  Periwinkle  was  dead  and  buried 
from  that  moment,  and  on  her  tombstone  Louisa 
carved  the  following  epitaph : 

Oh!  lay  her  in  a  little  pit, 
With  a  marble  stone  to  cover  it; 
And  carve  thereon  a  gruel  spoon, 
To  show  a  "nuss"  has  died  too  soon. 

She  had  only  a  confused  idea  of  what  happened 
afterwards;  she  remembered  saying  good-by  to  a 
great  many  people;  rough  hands  gripped  hers  gen- 
tly, voices  were  broken,  eyes  were  dimmed  with 
tears  as  she  passed  out  of  the  hospital.  There 
were  some  who  thought  she  would  not  live  to  get 
home,  but  Louisa  herself  thought  nothing  about  it. 
Her  father  was  with  her,  and  his  quiet  serenity  was 
something  to  be  grateful  for  just  now.  She  was 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  149 

too  spent  even  to  wonder  how  he  had  been  able  to 
pass  hostile  lines  to  get  to  her,  as  he  did,  in  the 
very  nick  of  time;  but  there  he  was;  and  she  turned 
to  him  with  a  sigh  like  a  little  child. 

How  she  got  to  Boston  she  never  knew;  there 
she  had  to  stay  overnight  as  she  was  too  sick  to 
keep  on  to  Concord,  and  she  had  a  dreadful  time 
of  it  at  her  cousin's,  Mr.  Sewall's.  The  next  day 
they  got  her  home  somehow,  and  the  last  thing  she 
remembered  was  May's  shocked  face  at  the  depot, 
and  her  mother's  bewildered  one  at  home.  The  doc- 
tors called  her  case  typhoid  pneumonia ;  she  was 
delirious  for  three  weeks,  while  she  hovered  between 
life  and  death,  and  some  of  her  fancies,  though  ap- 
palling at  the  time,  were  amusing  for  her  to  recall 
when  the  danger  was  past. 

"  The  most  vivid  and  enduring,"  she  writes, 
"  was  the  conviction  that  I  had  married  a  stout, 
handsome  Spaniard,  dressed  in  black  velvet,  with 
very  soft  hands,  and  a  voice  that  was  constantly  say- 
ing :  '  Lie  still,  my  dear  ' !  This  was  Mother,  I  sus- 
pect, but  with  all  the  comfort  I  often  found  in  her 
presence,  there  was  blended  an  awful  fear  of  the 
Spanish  spouse,  who  was  always  coming  after  me, 
appearing  out  of  closets,  in  at  windows,  or  threat- 
ening me  dreadfully  all  night  long.  I  appealed  to 
the  Pope,  and  really  got  up  and  made  a  touching 
plea  in  something  meant  for  Latin,  they  tell  me. 
Once  I  went  to  Heaven  and  found  it  a  twilight  place, 
with  people  darting  through  the  air  in  a  queer  way : 


150  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

all  very  busy  and  dismal  and  ordinary.  ...  I 
found  it  dark  and  '  slow  '  and  wished  I  hadn't 
come.  A  mob  at  Baltimore  breaking  down  the 
door  to  get  me,  being  hung  for  a  witch,  burned, 
stoned,  and  otherwise  maltreated,  were  some  of  my 
fancies." 

When  she  came  to  her  senses  and  they  told  her 
how  ill  she  had  been,  she  thought  it  very  curious,  for 
she  knew  nothing  of  it.  "  Found  a  queer,  thin, 
big-eyed  face  when  I  looked  in  the  glass/'  she  writes, 
"  didn't  know  myself  at  all,  and  when  I  tried  to 
walk,  discovered  that  I  couldn't  and  cried  because 
my  legs  wouldn't  go.  ...  Never  having  been  sick 
before,  it  was  all  very  new  and  interesting  when  I 
got  quiet  enough  to  understand  matters.  .  .  .  The 
old  fancies  still  lingered,  seeming  so  real,  I  believed 
in  them,  and  deluded  Mother  and  May  with  the  most 
absurd  stories,  so  soberly  told  that  they  thought 
them  true.  Dr.  B.  came  every  day  and  was  very 
kind.  Father  and  Mother  were  with  me  night  and 
day,  and  May  sang  '  Birks  of  Aberfeldie  '  or  read  to 
me  to  while  away  the  tiresome  hours." 

What  Louisa  owed  to  this  devoted  father  and 
mother  there  is  no  telling.  Never  did  parents  have 
their  children's  welfare  more  wholly  and  unselfishly 
at  heart,  and  it  is  due  to  them,  not  only  that  Louisa 
pulled  through  this  terrible  illness,  but  her  great  suc- 
cess as  an  author  was  the  result  of  their  entire 
unselfishness  throughout  her  life.  Mr.  F.  B.  San- 
born  says  most  truly  in  his  "  Life  of  Amos  Bronson 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  151 

Alcott":  "Her  [Louisa's]  success  had  for  its  back- 
ground the  whole  generous  past  of  her  family,  .  .  . 
for  it  was  only  as  the  historian  of  the  household, 
the  chronicler  of  their  romantic  and  pathetic  story 
that  she  could  permanently  touch  the  hearts  of  the 
public.  .  .  .  Nor  did  she  achieve  any  marked  suc- 
cess in  her  chosen  vocation  until  she  turned  into 
cordial  fiction  the  family  life  and  the  girlish  senti- 
ments and  adventures  of  the  four  sisters." 

So,  nursed  and  coaxed  back  to  life  by  loving  care, 
Louisa  began  to  mend,  and  at  last  crept  around  like 
a  ghost  of  herself  in  caps,  for  they  had  cut  off  her 
beautiful  hair  and  she  mourned  for  it  as  truly  as  Jo 
did,  when  she  sacrificed  her  chestnut  mane  for  the 
good  of  her  country.  By  March,  1863,  she  began 
to  dust  her  books,  clear  out  her  piece-bags,  and  make 
shaky  entries  in  her  diary.  She  recalled  and  re- 
wrote her  lines  on  "  Thoreau's  Flute,"  which  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  showed  to  Mr.  Fields,  then  editor  of 
the  Atlantic.  He  was  delighted  with  them  and  pub- 
lished them  at  once.  They  were  much  noticed  and 
praised,  "  also  paid  for,"  writes  Louisa,  "  and  being 
a  mercenary  creature,  I  liked  the  ten  dollars  nearly 
as  well  as  the  honor  of  being  '  a  new  star '  and  '  a 
literary  celebrity.'  " 

After  the  publication  of  "Thoreau's  Flute," 
which  like  all  other  contributions  to  the  magazine, 
was  presented  anonymously,  Mr.  Alcott  chanced  to 
be  calling  on  Longfellow.  On  the  poet's  table  lay 
a  recent  copy  of  the  Atlantic.  Longfellow  opened 
11 


!52  LOUISA  MAY  ALGOTT. 

it  and  said :  "  I  want  to  read  you  Emerson's  fine 
poem  on  '  Thoreau's  Flute.'  " 

As  he  began  to  read  Mr.  Alcott  interrupted  him 
in  great  delight : 

"  My  daughter  Louisa  wrote  that." 

In  speaking  of  this  to  a  friend,  Louisa  said :  "  Do 
you  wonder  that  I  felt  as  proud  as  a  peacock  when 
Father  came  home  and  told  me?  " 

On  March  28,  1863,  Anna's  first  boy  came  into 
the  world  and  was  warmly  welcomed  by  his  admir- 
ing family.  "  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  per- 
formance on  Saturday  evening,"  writes  Louisa,  in  a 
letter  of  congratulation  to  her  sister.  "  We  were 
all  sitting  deep  in  a  novel,  not  expecting  Father  home 
owing  to  the  snowstorm,  when  the  door  burst  open 
and  in  he  came,  all  wet  and  white,  waving  his  bag 
and  calling  out :  '  Good  news !  Good  news !  Anna 
has  a  fine  boy ! '  With  one  accord  we  opened  our 
mouths  and  screamed  for  about  two  minutes.  Then 
Mother  began  to  cry;  I  began  to  laugh;  and  May 
to  pour  out  questions;  while  Papa  beamed  upon  us 
all — red,  damp  and  shiny,  the  picture  of  a  proud 
old  grandpa.  Such  a  funny  evening  as  we  had! 
Mother  kept  breaking  down,  and  each  time  emerged 
from  her  handkerchief  saying  solemnly :  *  I  must 
go  right  down  and  see  that  baby ! '  Father  had  told 
everyone  he  met,  from  Mr.  Emerson  to  the  coach 
driver,  and  went  about  the  house  saying :  '  Anna's 
boy !  Yes,  yes,  Anna's  boy ! '  in  a  mild  state  of 
satisfaction." 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  153 

Louisa  and  May  taxed  their  brains  for  a  name, 
and  finally  decided  that  Amos  Minot  Bridge  Bron- 
son  May  Sewall  Alcott  Pratt  would  satisfy  every 
branch  of  the  family,  and  the  result  was  that  Freder- 
ick Pratt  was  the  name  of  this  important  small  per- 
son, who  made  such  a  stir  in  the  waters  of  life 
when  he  rose  to  the  surface.  We  have  since  met 
him  many  times,  for  this  was  the  first  of  Louisa's 
"  Little  Men,"  and  Demi,  she  tells  us  herself,  was 
a  faithful  portrait  of  her  own  sturdy  nephew. 

She  took  great  delight  in  him,  and  sewed  for  him 
like  his  own  special  slave,  rejoicing  in  her  secret 
soul,  no  doubt,  that  he  was  a  boy,  for  there  had  been 
girls  enough  in  the  Alcott  family. 

Louisa  spent  the  spring  in  getting  back  her 
strength.  After  the  strenuous  six  weeks  in  Wash- 
ington, she  was  content  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  and 
be  glad  that  she  was  alive.  And  after  all,  there  is 
no  spring  so  beautiful  as  a  spring  in  Concord.  A 
tangle  of  wild  flowers  perfumes  the  woods,  and  vio- 
lets cover  the  hillsides ;  the  giant  trees  are  lovely  in 
their  pale  green,  backed  by  the  deeper  tints  of  the 
evergreens;  the  placid  river  ripples  and  sparkles  in 
its  joy  of  living,  and  whether  the  sun  shines  or  the 
gentle  rain  comes  down  through  a  pearl-gray  mist, 
the  world  is  always  lovely  at  this  season,  and  Louisa 
"  felt  as  if  born  again,  everything  seemed  so  beau- 
tiful and  new." 

She  now  began  to  arrange  her  hospital  letters  for 
publication  in  the  Commonwealth,  at  Mr.  Sanborn's 


I54  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

suggestion.  She  made  three  hospital  sketches, 
which  were  written  in  story  form.  "  Hospital 
Sketches  "  is  all  comprised  in  six  chapters.  The 
first  two — "  Obtaining  Supplies  "  and  "  A  Forward 
Movement " — are  mere  explanations  of  how  Nurse 
Perizvinkle  got  to  the  front.  "A  Day,"  "A 
Night,"  and  "  Off  Duty  "  are  the  story  portion  of 
the  "  Sketches,"  possibly  the  three  she  made  at 
first.  The  sixth  chapter,  "  A  Postscript,"  she  added 
to  please  her  many  readers  who  cried  for  more. 
Letter-writing  had  come  so  naturally  to  her  that 
she  did  not  think  much  of  these;  she  consented  to 
have  them  published  because  she  needed  the  money. 
Much  to  her  surprise  they  made  a  great  hit,  es- 
pecially "  A  Night,"  into  which  it  was  plain  she  had 
put  her  whole  heart.  Famous  people  began  to  write 
her  about  them.  Redpath,  the  publisher,  offered 
to  print  them  all  in  book  form;  and  here  Roberts 
Brothers  first  appeared  on  the  scene;  they,  too, 
wanted  the  "  Sketches,"  but  Miss  Alcott  gave  the 
preference  to  Redpath. 

"  Short-sighted  Louisa !  "  she  adds  in  her  jour- 
nal, 1877.  "  Little  did  you  dream  that  this  same 
Roberts  Bros,  were  to  help  you  make  your  fortune 
a  few  years  later.  The  '  Sketches  '  never  made 
much  money,  but  showed  me  '  my  style,'  and  taking 
the  hint  I  went  where  glory  waited  me." 

Many  good  stories  were  the  result  of  the  hospital 
experience.  Most  of  them  were  gathered  into  the 
"  Camp  and  Fireside  Stories  "  which  were  printed 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  155 

later  in  the  same  volume  with  "  Hospital  Sketches," 
though  each  one  first  appeared  in  prominent  maga- 
zines. In  October,  1863,  she  writes  in  her  journal: 

"  If  ever  there  was  an  astonished  young  woman 
it  is  myself,  for  things  have  gone  on  so  swim- 
mingly of  late,  I  don't  know  who  I  am.  A  year 
ago  I  had  no  publisher  and  went  begging  with  my 
wares;  now  three  have  asked  me  for  something. 
Several  papers  are  ready  to  print  my  contributions, 
and  F.  B.  S.  says :  '  Any  publisher  this  side  of  Bal- 
timore would  be  glad  to  get  a  book ! '  This  is  a 
sudden  hoist  for  a  meek  and  lowly  scribbler,  who 
was  told  to  '  stick  to  her  teaching,'  and  never  had  a 
literary  friend  to  lend  a  helping  hand.  Fifteen 
years  of  hard  grubbing  may  be  coming  to  some- 
thing after  all,  and  I  may  yet  '  pay  all  the  debts,  fix 
the  house  and  send  May  to  Italy,  and  keep  the  old 
folks  cozy '  as  I've  said  I  would  so  long,  yet  so 
hopelessly." 

Indeed,  her  dream  was  beginning  to  take  shape. 
Already  she  was  giving  May  drawing  lessons  in  an- 
atomy and  fitting  her  out  with  pretty  clothes,  for 
she  was  very  proud  of  her  handsome,  talented  sis- 
ter, and  was  determined  that  she  should  wear  noth- 
ing odd  or  out  of  taste  if  she  could  help  it.  Poor 
May,  being  the  youngest,  had  been  forced  many  a 
time  to  wear  "  handed-down  "  things,  and  Louisa 
has  given  a  clever  sketch  of  what  agonies  the  artist 
soul  went  through  in  her  description  of  Amy's  woes 
in  "  Little  Women." 


156  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

The  New  Year  of  1864  dawned  bright  with 
promise.  Redpath,  who  scented  a  fortune  in  the 
young  authoress,  heard  of  "  Moods,"  and  came 
hurrying  to  Concord  to  secure  it  for  publication,  so 
the  dear  "  first-born  "  was  taken  out  again,  chopped 
and  pruned  and  sawed  and  hacked,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose ;  poor  "  Moods  "  seemed  to  be  a  black  sheep, 
a  ne'er-do-weal  in  the  family.  Once  more  she  put 
it  on  the  shelf  and  went  back  to  her  short  stories; 
the  "  blood-and-thunder  "  sort  pleased  best  and  the 
money  they  brought  was  very  comforting.  Some 
months  later  she  wrote  several  chapters  of  "  Work," 
getting  along  very  well,  when  one  night  as  she  lay 
awake,  an  idea  about  shortening  "  Moods  "  popped 
into  her  head  and  she  had  no  more  sleep.  The  early 
morning  saw  her  hard  at  work,  and  for  two  weeks 
after,  she  "  hardly  ate,  slept,  or  stirred,  but  wrote, 
wrote  like  a  thinking-machine  in  full  operation. 
When  it  was  all  rewritten,  without  copying,  I 
found  it  much  improved,  though  I  had  taken  out  ten 
chapters  and  sacrificed  many  of  my  favorite  things." 

However,  through  her  friend,  Mrs.  D.,  she  got  a 
reading  from  A.  K.  Loring,  the  publisher,  and  one 
clay  as  she  sat  on  the  floor  putting  down  the  parlor 
carpet,  she  received  an  enthusiastic  letter  from  the 
publisher  praising  the  book  and  promising  to  bring 
it  out  at  once.  The  Alcott  family  immediately  had 
a  "  rapture,"  and  Louisa  finished  her  work  "  double 
quick,"  regardless  of  weariness,  toothache,  or  "  blue 
devils." 


LOUISA  TO  THE  FRONT.  157, 

So  with  the  end  of  the  old  year,  1864,  "  Moods  " 
was  at  length  cast  upon  the  world.  It  came  out 
on  Christmas  Eve,  but  it  never  was  a  luck  child. 
It  brought  her  much  care,  a  bit  of  a  heartache,  sleep- 
less nights,  wearing  days,  but  rich  experience,  for 
she  learned,  after  many  trials,  that  truth  in  its  sim- 
plest form  is  after  all  one's  highest  goal,  and  her 
efforts  from  that  time  on  reached  upward  toward  its 
unwavering  light. 


CHAPTER    X. 

RECREATION    AND    A    TRIP    ABROAD. 

1FTER  "  Moods  "  was  well  off  her  mind, 
Louisa  felt  better  and  presented  the 
volume  to  her  mother  on  her  sixty- 
fourth  birthday  with  this  inscription: 
"  To  Mother,  my  earliest  patron,  kindest  critic,  dear- 
est reader,  I  gratefully  and  affectionately  inscribe 
my  first  romance."  She  began  to  get  a  little  more 
notice  than  she  found  quite  comfortable;  her 
friends'  admiration  was  very  precious  to  her,  but 
when  strangers  invaded  the  premises  and  demanded 
to  see  the  authoress,  she  turned  thorny.  "  Admire 
the  books,  but  let  the  woman  alone,  if  you  please, 
dear  public !  "  she  wails  in  her  journal.  But  this 
was  only  a  foretaste  of  what  she  suffered  in  the 
years  which  followed. 

In  spite  of  her  success,  money  was  still  a  rare 
and  beautiful  thing,  and  Louisa  sent  her  "  pot- 
boilers "  a-fishing  for  it  as  often  as  ever,  with,  it 
must  be  owned,  far  greater  success.  The  heads  of 
the  Alcott  family  being  now  above  water,  Louisa 
was  fired  on  one  special  occasion  with  a  praise- 
worthy desire  to  adorn  them  with  bonnets ;  her  in- 
158 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         159 

ventive  mind  found  an  outlet  here  as  well  as  in 
story-writing,  and  the  styles  in  the  early  sixties  be- 
ing very  pronounced  and  highly  colored,  this  am- 
bitious milliner  could  give  rein  to  her  vivid  imagi- 
nation. 

"  My  Lass,"  she  writes  to  Anna  in  a  burst  of  sis- 
terly confidence,  "  this  must  be  a  frivolous  and 
dressy  letter,  because  you  always  want  to  know 
about  our  clothes,  and  we've  been  at  it  lately. 
May's  bonnet  is  a  sight  for  gods  and  men.  Black 
and  white  outside,  with  a  great  cockade  boiling  over 
the  front,  to  meet  a  red  ditto  surging  from  the  in- 
terior, where  a  red  rainbow  darts  across  the  brow, 
and  a  surf  of  white  lace  foams  up  on  each  side. 
I  expect  to  hear  that  you  and  John  fell  flat  in  the 
dust  with  horror  on  beholding  it.  My  bonnet  has 
nearly  been  the  death  of  me;  for  thinking  some 
angel  might  make  it  possible  for  me  to  go  to  the 
mountains,  I  felt  a  wish  for  a  tidy  hat,  after  wearing 
an  old  one  till  it  fell  in  tatters  from  my  brow.  Mrs. 
P.  promised  a  bit  of  gray  silk  and  I  built  on  that; 
but  when  I  went  for  it  I  found  my  hat  was  built 
on  sand,  for  she  let  me  down  with  a  crash,  saying 
she  wanted  the  silk  herself,  and  kindly  offering  me 
a  flannel  petticoat  instead.  I  was  in  woe  for  a 
spell,  having  one  dollar  in  the  world  and  scorning 
debt  even  for  that  prop  of  life — a  '  bonnet.'  Then 
I  roused  myself,  flew  to  Dodge,  demanded  her 
cheapest  bonnet,  found  one  for  a  dollar,  took  it,  and 
went  home  wondering  if  the  sky  would  open  and 


!6o  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

drop  me  a  trimming.  I  am  simple  in  my  tastes, 
but  a  naked  straw  bonnet  is  a  little  too  severely 
chaste  even  for  me.  Sky  did  not  open ;  so  I  went 
to  the  '  Widow  Cruise's  oil  bottle/  my  ribbon-box, 
which,  by  the  way,  is  the  eighth  wonder  of  the 
world,  for  nothing  is  ever  put  in,  yet  I  always  find 
some  old  dud  when  all  other  hopes  fail.  From 
this  salvation  bin  I  extracted  the  remains  of  the  old 
white  ribbon  (used  up  as  I  thought  two  years  ago) 
and  the  bits  of  black  lace  that  have  adorned  a  long 
line  of  departed  hats.  Of  the  lace  I  made  a  dish 
on  which  I  thriftily  served  up  bows  of  ribbon,  like 
meat  on  toast.  Inside  I  put  the  lace  bow  which 
adorns  my  form  anywhere  when  needed.  A  white 
flower,  A.  H.  gave  me,  sat  airily  on  the  brim — fear- 
fully unbecoming,  but  pretty  in  itself  and  in  keep- 
ing. Strings  are  yet  to  be  evolved  from  chaos.  I 
feel  that  they  await  me  somewhere  in  the  dim 
future.  Green  ones  pro  tern,  hold  this  wonder  of 
the  age  upon  my  gifted  brow,  and  I  survey  my  hat 
with  respectful  awe.  I  trust  you  will  also,  and 
see  in  it  another  great  example  of  the  power  of 
mind  over  matter,  and  the  convenience  of  a  co- 
lossal brain  in  the  primeval  wrestle  with  the  unruly 
atoms  which  have  harassed  the  feminine  soul  ever 
since  Eve  clapped  on  a  modest  fig-leaf  and  did  up 
her  hair  with  a  thorn  for  a  hairpin." 

This  letter  was  written  from  Concord  and  showed 
Louisa  in  one  of  her  restless  moods.  The  quiet 
place  with  its  dull  routine  of  housework  was  very 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         161 

trying  at  times.  For  days  she  would  battle  with 
her  "  discontented  mind,"  then  a  wild  fit  of  energy 
would  possess  her,  as  on  the  day  she  did  a  big  wash 
alone,  baked,  swept  the  house,  picked  the  hops,  got 
dinner,  and  wrote  a  chapter  on  "  Moods,"  which 
would  clear  her  sky  wonderfully,  though  such  ener- 
getic measures  were  constantly  breaking  her  down. 
When  there  was  work  to  be  done,  Louisa  went  at 
it  with  all  her  old  vigor,  forgetting  that  her  hos- 
pital experiences  had  impaired  her  strength,  re- 
membering this  fact  only  at  those  times  when  she 
was  "  laid  up  for  repairs." 

She  was  beginning  to  be  genuinely  tired  of  her 
"  sensational  rubbish  "  as  she  called  the  money- 
making  "  pot-boilers."  There  was  something  bet- 
ter to  do  with  her  gift  of  writing,  if  she  could  only 
strike  out  in  the  right  direction.  Her  work  was 
now  carefully  considered  wherever  she  sent  it,  and 
she  had  a  feeling  always  in  her  very  earnest  young 
soul  that  she  would  like  to  help  the  world  in  some 
small  way,  and  send  a  little  sunshine  into  the  dark 
corners.  The  unexpected  reception  of  her  "  Hos- 
pital Sketches  "  had  the  effect  of  spurring  her  on, 
and  the  birth  of  Our  Young  Folks,  a  Boston  pub- 
lication, which  in  1873  was  bought  by  the  St. 
Nicholas  Magazine,  the  rising  juvenile  periodical  of 
the  day,  turned  her  thoughts  finally  in  the  right 
direction.  She  was  asked  to  contribute  stories,  and 
her  ever-ready  mind  jumped  easily  to  the  fairy 
tales  which  had  been  her  delight  when  younger. 


162  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

"  Nellie's  Hospital  "  was  written  at  this  time  and 
was  so  much  liked  that  many  old  tales  and  poems 
were  dug  up  from  the  past,  and  Louisa  let  her 
lovers  languish  while  she  turned  her  attention  to 
the  children.  Her  "  grown-up  "  stories  were  still 
eagerly  called  for  and  paid  for.  "  An  Hour " 
found  a  lodging  in  the  Commonwealth.  "  Mrs. 
Todger's  Teapot "  was  another  excellent  bit  of 
work,  a  Christmas  story  of  1864.  "  Moods  "  sold 
very  quickly  at  first,  and  brought  her  fame,  recog- 
nition, and  some  money.  In  December,  1864, 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  death  cast  a  gloom  over  the 
life  at  Concord.  This  quiet,  shy  scholar  was  much 
loved  in  his  small  circle,  and  it  was  his  loss,  added 
to  her  own  restlessness,  which  made  Louisa  long  for 
flight. 

The  New  Year  of  1865  saw  the  war  drawing  to 
a  close.  Louisa's  deep  interest  in  the  cause  had 
not  died  out,  but  her  health  never  allowed  her  to 
try  hospital  work  again.  She  sewed  zealously  for 
the  soldiers,  attended  meetings  in  their  behalf,  and 
on  one  occasion  she  dramatized  six  scenes  from 
Dickens  for  a  Benefit  Fair  in  Boston.  She  took 
part  and  worked  with  all  her  might,  clearing 
twenty-five  hundred  dollars  for  the  fund.  There 
were  dances,  fairs,  masquerades  and  teas  given  in 
Concord  for  the  Soldiers'  Aid  Society,  in  all  of 
which  she  took  an  eager  interest. 

Acting  was  then,  as  always,  a  pure  delight  to  her, 
and  these  war  times  called  for  her  services.  The 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         163 

scenes  from  Dickens  grew  very  popular,  and  her 
work  in  that  line  was  always  brilliant,  because  she 
loved  it  and  threw  herself  into  it  heart  and  soul. 
On  April  2d,  Richmond  fell,  and  on  the  I5th,  in  the 
midst  of  the  rejoicing,  came  the  news  of  Lincoln's 
assassination,  and  she  joined  in  the  nation's  mourn- 
ing. After  that,  life  glided  very  placidly,  too  plac- 
idly for  restless  Louisa,  until  June  24th,  when  an- 
other little  nephew  put  new  life  and  interest  into 
the  family.  Coming  as  he  did  on  Elizabeth's  birth- 
day, he  seemed  to  fill  a  void  in  their  hearts.  He 
was  specially  dear  to  Louisa,  whose  memory  of  her 
sister  needed  just  such  living  comfort  as  little  John 
could  give.  But  the  dreadful  dullness  weighed 
upon  her.  "  Nothing  stirring  but  the  wind,"  she 
writes ;  "  nothing  to  see  but  dust ;  no  one  comes  but 
rose-bugs,  so  I  grub  and  scold  at  the  A.,  because 
it  takes  a  poor  fellow's  tales  and  keeps  'em  for  years 
without  paying  for  'em.  If  I  think  of  my  woes, 
I  fall  into  a  vortex  of  debts,  dish-pans  and  despon- 
dency awful  to  see.  So  I  say  '  every  path  has  its 
puddle '  and  try  to  play  gayly  with  the  tadpoles  in 
my  puddle,  while  I  wait  for  the  Lord  to  give  me 
a  lift,  or  some  gallant  Raleigh  to  spread  his  velvet 
cloak  and  fetch  me  over  dry-shod." 

She  longed  for  the  mountains  as  she  longed  for 
anything  that  would  change  the  monotony,  and 
many  a  dismal  mood  was  worked  off  in  her  favorite 
hiding  place — the  old  garret.  In  fancy  we  can  see 
her  curled  up  on  the  old  discarded  lounge,  gazing 


164  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

disconsolately  at  the  falling  summer  rain  as  it 
splashed  on  the  leaves  of  the  giant  trees  that  looked 
in  at  the  windows,  or  pattered  on  the  roof.  It  was 
doubtless  on  some  such  day  that  she  wrote  the  poem 
which  we  find  in  "  Little  Women,"  with  many  im- 
provements and  additions. 

Four  little  chests  all  in  a  row, 

Dim  with  dust  and  worn  by  time, 
All  fashioned  and  filled  long  ago 

By  children  now  in  their  prime. 
Four  little  keys  hung  side  by  side, 

With  faded  ribbons,  brave  and  gay 
When  fastened  there  with  childish  pride, 

Long  ago  on  a  rainy  day. 
Four  little  names,  one  on  each  lid, 

Carved  out  by  a  boyish  hand; 
And  underneath  there  lieth  hid, 

Histories  of  the  happy  band 
Once  playing  here  and  pausing  oft 

To  hear  the  sweet  refrain, 
That  came  and  went  on  the  roof  aloft, 

In  the  falling  summer  rain. 

Four  little  chests  all  in  a  row, 

Dim  with  dust  and  worn  by  time: 
Four  women,  taught  by  weal  and  woe 

To  love  and  labor  in  their  prime; 
Four  sisters  parted  for  an  hour — 

None  lost,  one  only  gone  before, 
Made  by  love's  immortal  power, 

Nearest  and  dearest  evermore. 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         165 

Oh!  when  these  hidden  stores  of  ours 

Lie  open  to  the  Father's  sight,  * 

May  they  be  rich  in  golden  hours — 

Deeds  that  show  fairer  for  the  light, 
Deeds  whose  brave  music  long  shall  ring, 

Like  a  spirit-stirring  strain, 
Souls  that  shall  gladly  soar  and  sing 

In  the  long  sunshine,  after  rain. 

She  did  not  have  to  wait  much  longer  for  the  lift 
she  needed,  for  she  writes :  "  Mr.  W.,  hearing  that 
I  was  something  of  a  nurse  and  wanted  to  travel, 
proposed  my  going  with  his  invalid  daughter.  I 
agreed,  though  I  had  my  doubts.  But  everyone 
said  '  Go/  and  so  after  a  week  of  worry  I  did  go." 

They  sailed  July  ipth  for  Liverpool,  and  here 
shone  for  Louisa  the  new  light  which  was  to  guide 
her  literary  life.  It  was  a  ten  days'  voyage,  and 
possibly  not  such  a  pleasant  one  as  on  the  ocean 
liners  of  to-day,  with  all  their  comfort  and  mag- 
nificence. She  was  not  sick,  only  "  uncomfortable  " 
as  she  expressed  it,  but  she  enjoyed  the  ever-chang- 
ing sea,  the  fine  sunsets,  even  the  sunrises,  for  being 
an  enterprising  young  woman,  we  may  be  sure  she 
was  up  early.  There  were  fogs,  and  icebergs,  rain- 
storms and  summer  calms,  all  of  which  were  most 
interesting  and  instructive,  but  she  was  glad  to  get 
to  Liverpool,  on  solid  earth  again,  then  on  to 
London. 

Of  this  first  trip  abroad  she  has  left  but  a  frag- 
mentary record;  a  few  jottings  in  her  journal  and 


T66  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

a  few  facts  scattered  here  and  there  among  her 
stories.  The  account  in  "  Little  Women "  of 
Amy's  trip  abroad,  is  certainly  her  own  experience, 
with  the  "  story  "  part  left  out ;  but  we  glean  from 
her  journal  that  the  "  four  dull,  drizzling  days  " 
spent  in  London  were  most  depressing.  She  went 
to  the  parks,  Westminster  Abbey,  and  the  famous 
streets  she  had  read  about  in  English  novels.  From 
London  they  went  to  Dover,  then  by  steamer  to 
Ostend.  Louisa  was  ill  all  the  way,  and  "  saw 
nothing  but  a  basin."  Here  they  rested  two  days, 
enjoying  their  first  glimpse  of  foreign  life  and 
fashion.  A  peep  at  Brussels  made  her  wish  for 
more,  but  the  invalid's  destination  was  Schwalbach, 
where  she  meant  to  take  the  baths,  so  their  journey 
across  country  was  somewhat  hurried. 

Miss  Alcott  writes  in  her  journal:  "  On  the  I2th 
[of  August]  began  a  lovely  voyage  up  the  Rhine. 
It  was  too  beautiful  to  describe,  so  I  shall  not  try; 
but  I  feel  richer  and  better  for  that  memorable  day. 
We  reached  Coblentz  at  sunset,  and  I  was  up  half 
the  night  enjoying  the  splendid  view  of  the  fortress 
opposite  the  moonlit  river  with  its  bridges  of  boats, 
and  troops  crossing  at  midnight. 

"  A  second  day,  still  more  charming,  took  us 
through  the  famous  parts  of  the  Rhine,  and  filled 
my  head  with  pictures  that  will  last  all  my  life." 

There  is  no  telling  what  this  year  of  travel  meant 
to  Louisa,  coming  as  it  did  when  her  mind  cried 
out  for  a  change  of  some  sort.  Her  beauty-loving 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         167 

nature  craved  something  more  than  quiet  Concord 
and  its  surroundings,  and  this  progress  through  the 
Rhine  country,  with  its  legends  and  folk  tales,  was 
the  very  best  tonic  for  her. 

They  passed  through  a  number  of  queer  little  vil- 
lages before  reaching  Schwalbach,  where  they  rest- 
ed a  month  and  took  the  baths,  and  when  the  invalid 
got  a  little  stronger  they  went  to  Vevey,  of  which 
we  hear  so  much  in  "  Little  Women."  On  the 
way  they  stopped  at  Wiesbaden,  then  at  Frankfort. 

"  Here  I  saw  and  enjoyed  a  good  deal,"  she  writes. 
"  The  statues  of  Goethe,  Schiller,  Faust,  Gutenberg, 
and  Schaeffer  are  in  the  squares.  Goethe's  house 
is  a  tall,  plain  building,  with  each  story  projecting 
over  the  lower,  and  a  Dutch  roof;  a  marble  slab 
over  the  front  door  recording  the  date  of  Goethe's 
birth.  I  took  a  look  at  it,  and  wanted  to  go  in,  as  it 
was  empty,  but  there  was  no  time.  Some  Ameri- 
cans said :  '  Who  was  Goethe  to  fuss  about  ?  ' ' 

This  to  Louisa,  who  as  a  girl  had  worshiped 
him  and  Emerson !  She  was  enthusiastic  over 
Heidelberg,  and  gives  us  pretty  pen  pictures  of  the 
charming  old  place,  surrounded  by  mountains. 
From  Heidelberg  to  Baden-Baden,  Freiberg,  Basle, 
and  on  the  way  to  Berne  she  caught  her  first  glimpse 
of  the  Alps,  on  her  mother's  birthday,  October  8th. 

"  Tall,  white,  spectral  shapes  they  were,  tower- 
ing above  the  green  hills  and  valleys  that  lay  be- 
tween. Clouds  half  hid  them,  and  the  sun  glittered 
on  the  everlasting  snow  that  lay  on  their  tops. 
12 


!68  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Sharp,  strange  outlines  against  the  sky  they  be- 
came as  night  came  on,  and  in  the  morning  I  had 
a  fine  view  of  the  Jungfrau,  the  Bliimis,  the  Wetter- 
horn,  and  Monch  from  the  terrace  at  Berne." 

From  Berne  they  went  to  Freiberg  No.  2,  a  most 
romantic  spot,  with  its  winding  river,  suspension 
bridges,  steep  hills,  and  watch  towers.  The  next 
stop  was  in  Lausanne,  and  finally  they  reached 
Vevey,  having  enjoyed  a  fine  panorama  of  this 
wonderful  little  Switzerland. 

At  Vevey  there  came  to  Louisa  a  pleasant  expe- 
rience, something  very  sweet  and  beautiful  in  the 
way  of  friendship  between  a  grown  woman  and  a 
fine  young  fellow,  which  she  has  generously  shared 
with  a  world  of  young  readers.  The  boy  in  ques- 
tion was  named  Ladislas  Wisniewski — "  two  hic- 
coughs and  a  sneeze  will  give  you  the  name  per- 
fectly," she  tells  us,  but  she  called  him  Laddie  most 
of  the  time,  and  often  Laurie,  the  name  we  have 
grown  to  love  so  much  in  "  Little  Women." 

He  was  a  young  Polish  boy  who  had  come  to 
Vevey  for  his  health,  a  tall,  thin  lad  of  eighteen  or 
twenty,  with  an  intelligent  face  and  charming  man- 
ners. Louisa's  heart  warmed  to  him  at  first  be- 
cause he  looked  delicate.  He  had  come  to  board 
in  their  pension,  and  the  acquaintance  began  at  the 
breakfast  table,  by  a  cough  and  a  shiver.  Louisa, 
full  of  sympathy,  looked  up  quickly — he  was  sitting 
directly  in  a  draught — while  she,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  table,  was  absolutely  roasting  by  the 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         169 

stove.  She  spoke  to  their  landlady  between  meals, 
and  at  dinner  their  places  were  changed.  The 
young  stranger  was  quick  to  appreciate  the  kind- 
ness, and  from  that  time  the  friendship  grew.  He 
could  speak  only  broken  English,  but  her  friendly 
interest  drew  him  out  of  his  shell,  and  Louisa,  so 
lately  from  scenes  of  war,  found  that  he  had  been 
in  the  late  Polish  Revolution,  had  suffered  impris- 
onment and  hardship,  losing  friends,  fortune,  and 
health,  for  his  lungs  were  in  a  bad  state,  but  he  was 
fighting  bravely  for  life. 

All  the  pent-up  tenderness  and  romance  broke 
forth  in  Louisa's  affection  for  this  boy.  Sternly 
she  had  dubbed  herself  an  "  old  maid  "  from  the 
mature  age  of  twenty-five  to  the  venerable  state  of 
thirty-three  years.  Yet  no  woman  was  ever  more 
ardently  beloved  by  her  many  boy  admirers,  and 
this  one  in  particular  was  so  open  in  his  adoration 
that  Louisa  was  both  proud  and  touched.  Had  she 
been  ten  years  younger  and  he  ten  years  older,  the 
flavor  of  romance  might  have  been  even  stronger ;  as 
it  was,  she  played  mother  to  him,  and  he  called  her 
his  "  little  mamma  "  and  made  her  his  confidante. 
He  asked  her  to  call  him  "  Varjo,"  as  his  mother 
did,  and  taught  her  French  in  return  for  her  lessons 
in  English.  He  played  beautifully  on  the  piano,  and 
many  a  concert  they  had  in  the  salon  of  the  pension, 
He  brought  her  flowers — late  roses  were  blooming 
in  Vevey — and  there  was  always  a  bouquet  ready 
for  her  at  dinner. 


jyo  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

She  celebrated  her  thirty-third  birthday  at  Vevey, 
and  wrote  in  her  journal :  "  A.  gave  me  a  pretty 
painting  of  Chillon,  Laclislas  promised  me  the  notes 
of  the  Polish  National  Hymn,  and  played  me  his 
sweetest  airs  as  a  present,  after  wishing  me  '  all 
good  and  happiness  on  earth  and  a  high  place  in 
Heaven  as  my  reward.'  It  was  a  mild,  windy  day, 
very  like  me  in  its  fitful  changes  of  sunshine  and 
shade.  Usually  I  am  sad  on  my  birthday,  but  not 
this  time;  for,  though  nothing  very  pleasant  hap- 
pened, I  was  happy  and  hopeful,  and  enjoyed  every- 
thing with  unusual  relish.  I  feel  rather  old  with 
my  thirty-three  years,  but  have  much  to  keep  me 
young,  and  hope  I  shall  not  grow  older  in  heart  as 
the  time  goes  on." 

In  December  she  adds :  "  Laurie  very  interesting 
and  good.  Pleasant  walks  and  talks  with  him  in 
the  chateau  garden  and  about  Vevey.  A  lovely  sail 
on  the  lake  andrtnuch  fun  giving  English  and  re- 
ceiving French  lessons." 

In  the  first  volume  of  "  Aunt  Jo's  Scrap  Bag  " 
Miss  Alcott  devotes  several  pages  of  "  My  Boys  " 
to  this  favorite  boy  of  hers.  "  Lake  Leman,"  she 
writes,  "  will  never  seem  so  lovely  again  as  when 
Laddie  and  I  roamed  about  its  shores,  floated  on  its 
bosom,  or  laid  splendid  plans  for  the  future  in  the 
sunny  garden  of  the  chateau.  I  tried  it  again  last 
year  (1871),  but  the  charm  was  gone,  for  I  missed 
my  boy,  with  his  fun,  his  music,  and  the  frank, 
fresh  affection  he  gave  his  '  little  mamma,'  as  he 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         171 

insisted  on  calling  the  lofty  spinster,  who  loved 
him  like  half-a-dozen  grandmothers  rolled  into 
one." 

She  kept  many  mementoes  of  him — some  De- 
cember roses  and  a  pile  of  merry  little  notes,  which 
she  used  to  find  tucked  under  her  door.  Better 
than  all,  she  has  made  him  live  through  time,  and — 
but  that  is  another  chapter. 

Those  few  delightful  weeks  in  Vevey  drew  to  an 
end,  and  the  travelers  turned  their  faces  to  Nice, 
after  an  affecting  parting  from  Laddie.  Louisa 
hoped  to  meet  him  in  Paris  in  the  spring,  but  it  was 
only  a  faint  hope,  for  neither  of  them  thought  he 
would  live  through  the  winter.  When  they  said 
"  good-by,"  which  they  tried  to  make  au  revoir, 
she  tells  us :  "  There  were  tears  in  my  boy's  eyes 
and  a  choke  in  the  voice  that  tried  to  say  cheerfully : 
'  Bon  voyage,  dear  and  good  little  mamma.  I  do 
not  say  adieu,  but  au  revoir.' 

"  Then  the  carriage  rolled  away,  the  wistful  face 
vanished,  and  nothing  remained  to  me  but  the  mem- 
ory of  Laddie  and  a  little  stain  on  my  glove  where  a 
drop  had  fallen." 

The  stay  in  Nice  is  vividly  described  by  Our 
Foreign  Correspondent  in  "  Little  Women  " — even 
the  ball  they  went  to  at  the  pension  where  they 
boarded  for  a  while.  But  they  were  lonely  among 
so  many  foreigners  from  every  part  of  the  world, 
and  finally  tried  housekeeping  in  an  apartment,  kept 
by  one  Madam  Rolande,  who  for  six  years  had  been 


172  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

French  governess  to  Queen  Victoria's  children. 
Here  they  were  more  comfortable;  they  had  a  jewel 
of  a  French  maid  and  six  nice,  large  rooms. 

There  were  beautiful  drives  about  Nice  and  many 
sights  to  see.  Here  also  was  the  lovely  Valrosa,  a 
villa  in  a  rose  garden,  a  dear  old  landmark  of  "  Lit- 
tle Women."  Indeed,  Louisa  popped  the  whole  of 
this  trip,  plump  and  pat,  into  volume  second. 

But  at  Nice  she  decided  to  start  for  home  in  May. 
Fond  as  she  was  of  her  invalid  friend,  she  longed 
for  a  few  weeks  of  absolute  freedom,  and  on  the 
first  day  of  May  started  off  for  Paris,  as  happy  as  a 
released  prisoner. 

To  her  great  delight,  at  the  station,  waving  his 
cap  among  the  crowd,  was  Laddie,  who  took 
charge  of  her  from  that  time  until  the  day  she  left 
for  London,  and  she  says  in  "  My  Boys  " :  "  Next 
day  began  the  pleasantest  fortnight  in  all  my  year 
of  travel.  Laddie  appeared  early,  elegant  to  behold 
in  a  new  hat  and  buff  gloves,  and  was  immensely 
amused  because  the  servant  informed  me  that  my 
big  son  had  arrived." 

They  went  shopping  together,  even  to  the  milli- 
ner's— Louisa's  extravagances  always  ran  to  bon- 
nets— where  he  placed  his  good  French  at  her  dis- 
posal. He  was  full  of  fun  and  up  to  all  sorts  of 
mischief.  For  instance,  he  made  her  call  him  ma 
drogha,  saying  it  meant  "my  friend"  in  Polish. 
He  introduced  her  to  several  young  fellows  of  his 
own  age,  and  she  used  the  words  before  them  inno- 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         173 

cently  enough ;  they  flew  into  such  a  gale  of  merri- 
ment that  she  inquired  the  cause,  and  found  that  she 
had  been  calling  her  Laddie  "  my  darling  "  in  the 
most  loving  manner.  Of  course,  being  an  old  and 
proper  spinster,  she  turned  the  color  of  a  peony  as 
she  joined  in  the  laugh  at  her  expense. 

There  was  a  very  sober  side  to  this  boy  of  hers ; 
a  pathetic  and  hopeless  little  love  story  of  two  inno- 
cent hearts  parted  by  stern  parents,  and  this,  too,  he 
confided  to  the  "  little  mamma,"  who  loved  him  all 
the  more  for  this  shadow.  The  two  weeks  went  all 
too  quickly,  the  farewells  had  to  come  at  last. 

"  This  time  it  is  for  always,"  said  Laddie ;  "  so, 
as  a  parting  souvenir,  give  to  me  the  sweet  English 
good-by." 

"  As  he  said  this,  with  a  despairing  sort  of  look, 
as  if  he  could  not  spare  even  so  humble  a  friend  as 
myself,  my  heart  was  quite  rent  within  me,  and, 
regardless  of  several  prim  English  ladies,  I  drew 
down  his  tall  head  and  kissed  him  tenderly,  feeling 
that  in  this  world  there  were  no  more  meetings 
for  us.  Then  I  ran  away  and  buried  myself  in  an 
empty  railway  carriage,  hugging  the  little  cologne 
bottle  he  had  given  me." 

Laddie  wrote  to  her  regularly  for  several  years, 
and  later  sent  his  photograph  with  a  few  lines,  but 
though  she  acknowledged  it,  she  did  not  hear  from 
him  for  so  long  that  she  feared  this  last  and  dearest 
of  her  boys  was  dead.  She  concludes  the  little  story 
in  this  way : 


I74  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

"  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add,  for  the  satisfac- 
tion of  inquisitive  little  women,  that  Laddie  was  the 
original  of  Laurie,  as  far  as  a  pale  pen-and-ink 
sketch  could  embody  a  living,  loving  boy." 

She  was  anxious  to  get  home,  and  hurried  from 
Paris  to  London,  where  she  went  about  a  great 
deal,  seeing  sights  and  people,  going  to  theaters, 
dinner  parties,  concerts,  and  receptions;  she  heard 
her  beloved  Dickens  read,  and  received  whole- 
souled  English  kindness  from  everyone. 

Early  in  June,  she  spent  ten  days  in  a  real  Eng- 
lish country  house,  which  she  greatly  enjoyed.  On 
the  nth  she  went  to  board  with  a  Mrs.  Travers  in 
Westbourne  Grove  Terrace.  The  household  con- 
sisted of  "  Mrs.  T.  and  daughter,  two  sisters  from 
Dublin,  and  ten  young  men,  barristers,  clerks, 
ministers,  and  students.  .  .  .  Very  free  and  jolly, 
roaming  about  London  all  day,  dining  late,  and 
resting,  chatting,  music,  or  fun  in  the  evening." 

That  she  saw  everything  that  was  to  be  seen,  we 
learn  from  the  following  paragraph :  "  Saw  the 
Tower,  Windsor,  parks,  gardens,  and  all  manner  of 
haunts  of  famous  men  and  women ;  Milton's  house, 
Johnson's,  in  Ball  Court;  Lamb's,  Sairy  Gamp's, 
Saracen's  Head,  the  Charter  House,  where  Thack- 
eray was  when  a  lad;  Furnival's  Inn,  where  Dick- 
ens wrote  "  Pickwick  " ;  Bacon's  Walk,  and  endless 
memorable  sights.  St.  Paul's  I  liked  better  than 
Notre  Dame." 

While   in   London,   she   saw   Routledge   about 


RECREATION  AND  A  TRIP  ABROAD.         175 

"  Moods  " ;  he  not  only  took  it,  but  asked  for  an- 
other book,  much  to  her  delight.  Truth  to  tell,  the 
last  two  months  of  her  stay  abroad  was  the  period 
she  most  enjoyed.  In  the  first  place,  she  had  no 
care  nor  responsibility ;  in  the  second,  she  was  given 
this  freedom  through  the  unselfishness  of  her 
mother,  who  borrowed  money  for  the  family  sup- 
port, that  Louisa  might  have  enough  of  her  own 
to  finish  the  year's  vacation.  This  was  among  the 
debts  that  the  faithful  daughter  repaid,  and  surely 
this  journey,  of  all  others,  was  the  golden  key 
which  opened  the  way.  She  left  for  Liverpool  and 
home  July  /th,  and  after  a  stormy  voyage  of  four- 
teen days  reached  home  at  last,  glad  to  be  there, 
glad  to  see  them  all,  feeling  rested  and  improved  in 
every  way. 

The  year  had  wrought  many  changes  among 
those  she  loved.  She  found  her  mother  looking 
worn  and  sick  and  tired,  which  troubled  her  greatly ; 
her  father,  placid  as  ever ;  Anna,  happy  in  her  home, 
with  two  cunning  boys,  and  May,  radiant  and  full 
of  plans  and  hopes. 

In  August,  she  fell  to  work  once  more  on  her 
stories,  for  orders  in  plenty  awaited  her,  and  the 
family  coffers  were  nearly  empty.  In  September, 
poor  Mrs.  Alcott  broke  down  completely ;  the  year's 
strain  had  been  too  much  for  her.  Then  Louisa 
"  turned  in,"  nursing  by  day  and  writing  by  night. 
By  November,  Mrs.  Alcott  was  slowly  mending,  and 
Louisa  writes :  "  I  never  expect  to  see  the  strong, 


176  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

energetic  '  Marmee '  of  old  times,  but,  thank  the 
Lord !  she  is  still  here,  though  pale  and  weak,  quiet 
and  sad;  all  her  fine  hair  gone,  and  face  full  of 
wrinkles,  bowed  back,  and  every  sign  of  age.  Life 
has  been  so  hard  for  her,  and  she  so  brave,  so  glad 
to  spend  herself  for  others.  Now  we  must  live  for 
her." 

And  from  that  moment  Louisa  did — all  her  en- 
ergy, all  the  best  that  was  in  her,  bent  to  the  serv- 
ice. In  the  long,  fruitful  years  which  followed,  her 
dream  came  true,  and  "  Marmee  "  had  her  sunny 
corner,  her  easy-chair,  and  the  rest  she  had  earned 
so  nobly. 


CHAPTER   XL 
"LITTLE  WOMEN." 

IHE  next  year  (1867)  was  spent  by 
Louisa  in  making  up  for  lost  time  and 
getting  her  "  thinking  cap  "  pinned  on 
properly.  Fortunately,  many  people 
wanted  stories,  and,  as  the  family  treasury  was 
in  a  bad  way,  she  set  to  work  in  earnest.  Her  time 
was  taken  up  in  caring  for  her  mother,  writing  her 
stories,  and  keeping  house.  Her  writing  alone 
would  have  kept  her  busy  enough,  but  her  other 
cares  told  on  her  health,  and  so,  after  a  year  of  hard 
labor  to  pay  for  the  long  vacation,  she  ran  off  to 
Clark's  Island  for  a  holiday  during  the  month  of 
August.  She  came  back  in  September,  bright  and 
full  of  her  old  energy,  after  a  jolly  fortnight,  and 
we  find  this  trifling  entry  in  her  journal : 

"  September,  1867.  Niles,  partner  of  Roberts, 
asked  me  to  write  a  girls'  book.  Said  I'd  try.  F. 
asked  me  to  be  the  editor  of  Merry's  Museum.  Said 
I'd  try.  Began  at  once  on  both  new  jobs,  but  didn't 
like  either." 

It  was  in  this  fashion  that  she  treated  a  proposi- 
tion which  was  to  hold  so  much  for  her  in  the 


I78  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

future.  Of  the  two  jobs,  being  editor  of  Merry's 
Museum  meant  more  to  her  just  then.  She  was  to 
read  manuscripts,  write  one  story  each  month,  also 
an  editorial,  for  five  hundred  dollars  a  year.  Quite 
joyful  over  the  prospect  of  a  settled  income,  she 
decided  to  take  a  room  in  Boston  for  the  winter  and 
set  up  housekeeping  for  herself. 

"  Cannot  keep  well  in  Concord,"  she  writes  in 
October,  "  so  must  try  Boston,  and  not  work  too 
hard." 

"  On  the  28th  rode  to  B.,  on  my  load  of  furni- 
ture, with  Fred,  feeling  as  if  I  was  going  to  camp 
out  in  a  new  country;  hoped  it  would  prove  a  hos- 
pitable, healthy  land." 

Those  who  have  read  "  An  Old-Fashioned  Girl  " 
will  remember  that  when  Polly  came  to  town  to 
teach  music,  she  did  very  much  the  same  thing. 

"  You  ought  to  have  seen  my  triumphal  entry 
into  the  city,"  she  tells  her  friend  Fanny  Shaw, 
"  sitting  among  my  goods  and  chattels,  in  a  farm- 
er's cart,  ...  on  my  little  sofa,  with  boxes  and 
bundles  all  around  me,  a  birdcage  on  one  side,  a 
fishing  basket,  with  a  kitten's  head  popping  in  and 
out  of  the  hole,  on  the  other  side,  and  jolly  old  Mr. 
Brown,  in  his  blue  frock,  perched  on  a  keg  of  apples, 
in  front." 

She  gives  a  very  lively  description  of  this  ride, 
and  the  adventures  of  a  certain  squash  pie,  the  gift 
of  a  neighbor,  are  faithfully  recorded.  Louisa  was 
always  ready  for  a  "  lark,"  and  this  novel  way  of 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  179 

moving  from  Concord  to  Boston  was  an  idea  after 
her  own  heart.  The  furniture  received  many 
bumps  and  scrapes  in  the  jolting  wagon;  the  book 
shelves  tumbled  on  their  heads  as  they  went  down 
one  hill,  the  rocking-chair  slid  off  into  the  middle  of 
the  road  as  they  creaked  up  another;  but  it  was  a 
jolly  trip,  and  Louisa,  who  never  did  things  quite 
like  other  people,  enjoyed  the  fun  immensely. 

Not  that  she  was  ever  odd,  but  she  was,  like 
Polly,  delightfully  old-fashioned  at  times,  and  even 
at  the  sedate  age  of  four-and-thirty  could  frolic  like 
a  girl.  She  set  to  work  very  much  as  Polly  did 
with  her  simple  housekeeping,  and  no  doubt  en- 
joyed it  even  more,  for  Louisa  was  now  a  young 
woman  of  some  position  in  her  world,  while  Polly, 
the  modest  little  music-teacher,  was  quite  unknown, 
save  among  her  few  friends.  Her  simple  house- 
keeping, in  her  sunny  room,  was  quite  as  interesting 
as  in  Polly's  small  establishment,  and  many  a  happy 
twilight  was  spent  round  her  cheerful  blaze,  while 
she  dispensed  tea  and  buttered  toast  and  made 
merry  with  her  guests — her  "  hundred  or  more  " 
cousins — who  adored  her. 

The  winter  in  Boston  passed  happily,  for  May 
had  a  drawing-class  in  her  room  every  day,  so  she 
was  never  lonely,  and,  as  she  was  constantly  called 
upon  to  act  for  charity,  she  had  a  very  good  time, 
for  the  old  passion  never  quite  died  out.  Dickens 
was  always  her  delight,  and  "  Mrs.  Jarley's  Wax 
Works  "  her  special  property.  She  gave  it  many 


180  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

times  in  public  with  much  success.  She  worked 
faithfully  as  the  editor  of  Merry's  Museum,  and 
sold  her  short  stories  as  fast  as  she  wrote  them. 

"  Things  look  promising,"  she  wrote  her  mother 
in  January,  1868.  "  ...  I  am  pretty  well,  and  keep 
so  busy  I  haven't  time  to  be  sick.  Everyone  is  very 
clever  to  me,  and  I  often  think,  as  I  go  larking 
around,  independent,  with  more  work  than  I  can  do 
and  half  a  dozen  publishers  asking  for  tales,  of  the 
old  times  when  I  went  meekly  from  door  to  door 
peddling  my  first  poor  little  stories,  and  feeling  so 
rich  with  ten  dollars.  .  .  . 

"  It's  clear  that  Minerva  Moody  is  getting  on, 
and,  by  the  time  she's  a  used-up  old  lady  of  seventy 
or  so,  she  may  finish  her  job  and  see  her  family  well 
off.  ... 

"  Keep  all  the  money  I  send ;  pay  up  every  bill ; 
get  comforts  and  enjoy  yourselves.  Let's  be  merry 
while  we  may,  and  lay  up  a  bit  for  a  rainy  day. 

"  With  which  gem  from  Aristotle,  I  am,  honored 
madam,  your  dutiful  and  affectionate 

"  L.  M.  ALCOTT. 

"  Regards  to  Plato.  Doesn't  he  want  new  socks  ? 
Are  his  clothes  getting  shiny  ?  " 

January  began  most  happily ;  there  was  certainly 
something  in  the  air  that  breathed  of  hope. 

"  For  many  years  we  have  not  been  so  comfort- 
able," she  says  in  her  journal.  "  May  and  I  both 
earning,  Anna  with  her  good  John  to  lean  on,  and 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  l8l 

the  old  people  in  a  cozy  home  of  our  own.  .  .  . 
To-day  my  first  hyacinth  bloomed,  white  and  sweet 
— a  good  omen ;  a  little  flag  of  truce,  perhaps,  from 
the  enemies  we  have  been  fighting  all  these  years. 
Perhaps  we  are  to  win,  after  all,  and  conquer  pov- 
erty, neglect,  pain,  and  debt,  and  march  on,  with 
flags  flying,  into  the  new  world  with  the  New 
Year." 

Still  no  sign  of  the  promised  story  for  girls. 
After  the  first  trial  it  was  evidently  laid  away  and 
forgotten  in  the  press  of  other  work  and  a  multi- 
tude of  social  duties,  both  pleasant  and  profitable. 

"  My  second  hyacinth  bloomed  pale  blue,  like  a 
timid  hope,"  she  writes  on  January  24th,  "  and  I 
took  the  omen  for  a  good  one,  as  I  am  getting  on, 
and  have  more  than  I  can  do  of  the  work  that  I 
once  went  begging  for.  Enjoyed  the  little  spring 
my  little  flower  made  for  me,  and  Buzzy,  my  pet 
fly,  moved  into  the  sweet  mansion  from  his  hanging 
garden  in  the  ivy  pot." 

Her  third  hyacinth  bloomed  a  beautiful  pink  on 
the  1 4th  of  February,  Valentine's  Day,  and,  as  flow- 
ers always  spoke  to  her  in  a  sweet  language  of  their 
own,  she  began  the  saint's  day  happily  in  her  snug 
little  room.  She  wrote  her  stories,  made  some 
shirts  for  her  little  nephews,  and  finally  went  out  to 
buy  a  squash  pie  for  her  supper — it  seems  she  had 
a  passion  for  squash  pies.  But  she  was  feeling  tired 
and  cross  when,  hugging  her  pie,  she  trudged  home 
at  dusk.  It  was  snowing  and  very  cold,  and  the 


T82  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

pie  turned  a  somersault,  much  to  the  amusement  of 
a  small  boy  and  vliss  Alcott  herself,  whose  spirits 
rose  at  once.  Arriving  at  home,  she  found  her  Val- 
entine in  the  shape  of  a  gentleman  waiting  for  her 
on  her  doorstep. 

"  I  took  him  up  my  winding  stair,"  writes  this 
ambitious  young  spider,  "  and  found  him  a  very 
delightful  fly,  for  he  handed  me  a  letter  out  of 
which  fell  a  hundred-dollar  bill.  With  this  bait, 
Mr.  B.  lured  me  to  write  *  one  column  of  advice  to 
young  women.'  ...  If  he  had  asked  me  to  write  a 
Greek  oration,  I  would  have  said  '  Yes.'  So  I  gave 
a  receipt,  and  the  very  elegant  agent  bowed  himself 
away,  leaving  my  '  'umble '  bower  full  of  perfume 
and  my  soul  of  peace.  ...  I  planned  my  article 
while  I  ate  my  dilapidated  pie,  and  then  proceeded 
to  write  it — with  the  bill  before  me.  It  was  about 
old  maids.  '  Happy  Women  '  was  the  title,  and  I 
put  in  my  list  all  the  busy,  useful,  independent  spin- 
sters I  know,  for  liberty  is  a  better  husband  than 
love — to  many  of  us.  This  was  a  nice  little  episode 
in  my  trials  of  an  authoress,  so  I  record  it. 

"  So  the  pink  hyacinth  was  a  true  prophet,  and  I 
went  to  bed  a  happy  millionaire,  to  dream  of  flannel 
petticoats  for  my  blessed  Mother,  paper  for  Father, 
a  new  dress  for  May,  and  sleds  for  my  boys." 

Had  Louisa  lived  among  us  to-day,  she  would 
hardly  have  called  herself  an  old  maid  at  thirty- 
five.  The  athletic  young  woman  of  our  time  has 
just  "  got  her  growth  "  at  that  age.  But,  for  all 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  183 

her  love  of  boys,  romance  had  never  touched  her 
very  closely.  She  loved  to  see  it  in  others  and  to 
write  about  it.  She  delighted  in  her  sister's  happy 
marriage,  but  would  have  none  of  it  herself,  though 
she  played  mother  to  the  little  lads  in  her  best  style, 
and  sister,  and  even  grandmother,  to  other  boys, 
older  still.  The  "  mother  feeling  "  of  taking  care 
of  people  was  very  strong  in  her ;  she  was  devotion 
itself  to  her  sister  Anna,  whose  growing  deafness 
made  her  somewhat  dependent.  She  writes  in  her 
journal : 

"  To  Nan's  in  j?.  M.  to  take  care  of  her  while  the 
papa  and  Freddie  went  to  Concord.  The  dear  lit- 
tle man,  so  happy  and  important,  with  his  bit  of  a 
bag,  six  pennies,  and  a  cake  for  refreshment  during 
the  long  journey  of  an  hour.  We  brooded  over 
Johnnie  as  if  he  were  a  heavenly  sort  of  fire  to 
warm  and  comfort  us  with  his  sunny  little  face  and 
loving  ways.  She  is  a  happy  woman!  I  sell  my 
children,  and,  though  they  feed  me,  they  don't  love 
me  as  hers  do.  Little  Tranquillity  played  alone  all 
day,  and  made  a  pretty  picture  sitting  in  *  mar- 
mar's  '  lap  in  his  nightgown,  talking  through  the 
trumpet  to  her.  She  never  heard  his  sweet  little 
voice  in  any  other  way.  Poor  Nan !  " 

So  the  winter  passed  and  the  spring  came,  and 
still  no  girls'  book.  She  had  been  at  home  since  the 
end  of  February,  having  enjoyed  the  few  months' 
rest  in  Boston,  and,  as  usual,  was  finding  it  hard  to 
write  stories  fast  enough  to  please  the  publishers. 
13 


184  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

In  May,  she  sent  her  father  to  see  Mr.  Niles  about 
a  fairy  book  she  proposed  writing,  but  the  stern 
publisher  would  have  none  of  it. 

"  A  girls'  book,"  he  demanded,  "  and  the  sooner 
it  is  written  the  better." 

So,  with  a  helpless  shrug  of  her  shoulders, 
Louisa  set  to  work  on  "  Little  Women." 

"  Marmee,  Anna,  and  May  all  approve  my  plan," 
she  writes.  "  So  I  plod  away,  though  I  don't  enjoy 
this  sort  of  thing.  Never  liked  girls  or  knew  many, 
except  my  sisters;  but  our  queer  plays  and  experi- 
ences may  prove  interesting,  though  I  doubt  it." 

"  Good  joke,"  writes  Louisa,  on  looking  over  her 
journal  many  years  later.  She  started  writing  in 
May,  and  by  June  had  finished  a  dozen  chapters. 
We  can  imagine  her,  as  we  have  seen  Jo  herself 
in  "  Little  Women,"  perched  upon  a  high  chair 
before  an  old-fashioned  desk,  with  the  light  from 
her  dormer  window  streaming  full  upon  her  paper, 
scratching  away  busily.  We  all  remember  the  black 
pinafore  and  the  cap  with  the  rampant  red  bow. 
The  hours  flew  by  unheeded  while  Louisa  dipped 
far  back  into  her  childhood,  and  was  a  child  again, 
with  Meg,  Jo,  Beth,  and  Amy.  And  yet,  when  she 
sent  these  first  twelve  chapters  to  Mr.  Niles,  he 
called  them  dull,  and  she  quite  agreed  with  him. 

Think  of  the  first  chapter  of  "  Little  Women," 
brimming  over  with  the  doings  of  these  four  whole- 
some little  girls,  being  thought  dull  by  these  foolish 
"  grown-ups  " — the  publisher  and  the  author !  And 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  185 

the  next  chapter,  the  Christmas  frolic  and  the 
"  Witch's  Curse,"  in  all  its  dramatic  glory,  with  Jo 
as  the  hero  and  the  villain  and  all  the  other  male 
parts  she  could  whisk  into  at  a  moment's  notice,  and 
Meg  as  the  witch,  and  Beth  and  Amy  playing  the 
smaller  parts  as  best  they  could — this  was  called 
dull,  too,  by  these  shortsighted  people.  And  all  the 
other  simple,  wholesome,  interesting  chapters  fare4 
no  better.  But,  in  spite  of  their  misgivings,  Louisa 
decided  to  keep  on  and  try  the  experiment,  "  for 
lively,  simple  books  are  very  much  needed  for  girls, 
and  perhaps  I  can  supply  the  need." 

On  July  1 5th,  she  finished  the  first  volume  of 
"  Little  Women,"  never  indeed  having  any  notion 
of  writing  another  part,  and  she  thankfully  laid 
down  her  pen,  for  the  strain  had  been  great.  On 
the  same  day  she  writes  in  her  journal :  "  Have 
finished  '  Little  Women  '  and  sent  it  off — 402  pages. 
May  is  designing  some  pictures  for  it.  Hope  it  will 
go,  for  I  shall  probably  get  nothing  for  '  Morning 
Glories.'  " 

With  the  completed  manuscript  in  his  hands,  Mr. 
Niles  wisely  decided  not  to  trust  his  own  judg- 
ment, and  looked  around  for  an  abler  critic.  This 
he  found  in  a  small  niece,  and  he  left  her  curled  up 
in  a  big  armchair,  with  the  closely  written  pages  of 
"  Little  Women  "  in  her  eager  hands.  He  peeped 
in  every  once  in  a  while,  but  he  did  not  disturb  her, 
for  the  little  girl  was  absorbed,  forgetful  of  every- 
thing but  the  story,  sometimes  laughing  aloud, 


186  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

sometimes  stopping  to  brush  the  tears  away,  but 
never  lifting  her  eyes  from  those  fascinating  pages 
until  the  last  was  laid  down  with  a  sigh  of  regret. 
She  was  an  enthusiastic  young  person,  and  had 
nothing  but  praise  for  the  story.  Mr.  Niles  hesi- 
tated no  longer.  In  August,  Louisa  writes : 

"Roberts  Brothers  made  me  an  offer  for  the 
story,  but  at  the  same  time  advised  me  to  keep  the 
copyright;  so  I  shall." 

Nearly  twenty  years  later  she  adds :  "  An  honest 
publisher  and  a  lucky  author,  for  the  copyright 
made  her  fortune,  and  the  '  dull  book  '  was  the  first 
golden  egg  of  the  ugly  duckling." 

So  the  book  was  published,  and  Louisa  jumped 
at  once  to  the  top  of  Fame's  ladder,  where  she  re- 
mained always  in  the  world  of  children.  No  writer 
before  or  since  her  time  has  bequeathed  such  a 
goodly  heritage  to  girls.  From  the  moment  we 
encounter  Jo,  stretched  on  the  hearth  rug,  until" 
we  take  leave  of  her  under  the  apple  trees  at 
Plumfield,  fifteen  years  later,  the  light  of  her  busy, 
useful  life  sheds  happiness  on  all  who  read  of  her. 

What  is  there,  after  all,  in  the  book  which  has 
held  so  many  generations  of  readers  under  a  magic 
spell?  It  is  but  a  simple  story  of  simple  girls, 
bound  by  a  beautiful  tie  of  family  love,  that  neither 
poverty,  sorrow  nor  death  could  sever.  Four  little 
pilgrims,  struggling  onward  and  upward  through 
all  the  difficulties  that  beset  them  on  their  way ;  that 
is  all — just  the  story  of  their  lives — their  daily 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  187 

struggles,  their  joys,  and  their  sorrows;  but  what 
girl  among  the  millions  who  have  pored  over  the 
book  could  read  of  them  unmoved?  How  many 
ambitions  have  been  spurred  on  by  Jo's  struggles 
and  difficulties  and  by  Amy's  artistic  efforts !  How 
many  little  "  Crickets  on  the  Hearth "  have 
chirped  the  sweeter  for  dear  little  Beth's  sunny  in- 
fluence! How  many  homes  have  been  made  the 
happier  by  the  "  Meggs  "  who  have  graced  them! 
And  they  were  not  always  turtle  doves,  like  the 
good  little  story-book  children.  Jo  and  Amy,  the 
two  high  tempers  of  the  family,  had  many  a 
squabble,  and  "Little  Women  "  records  probably 
the  most  serious  quarrel  of  their  young  lives  in  the 
chapter  where  "  Jo  Meets  Apollyon." 

One  little  girl  clearly  remembers  her  feelings 
over  that  dreadful  affair,  and,  though  she  is  grown 
now,  the  problem  of  twenty  years  ago  still  con- 
fronts her.  Who  was  the  greater  sinner — Amy,  for 
destroying  her  sister's  book,  or  Jo,  for  not  warning 
Amy  that  the  ice  on  the  river  was  thin?  "Never 
let  the  sun  go  down  upon  your  anger,"  said  Mrs. 
March,  as  they  went  to  bed  the  night  of  the  quar- 
rel, yet  rebellious  Jo  could  not  forgive.  For  years 
this  same  little  girl  took  this  wholesome  advice  as 
her  guiding  star  for  her  own  unruly  spirit. 

Louisa  was  not  prepared  for  the  storm  of  ap- 
plause her  book  called  forth.  Tucked  away  in  her 
modest  corner  of  Concord,  she  looked  on  in  wonder 
as  edition  after  edition  was  printed  to  supply  the 


1 88  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

demand,  and  the  hitherto  empty  coffers  of  the  Al- 
cott  family  began  to  "  swell  wisibly,"  as  her  favor- 
ite Sam  Weller  might  have  said.  Great  excitement 
reigned  among  the  children,  who  regarded  the  au- 
thor of  "  Little  Women  "  as  their  own  special  prop- 
erty. Though  written  for  girls,  there  was  enough 
boy  material  to  suit  everyone,  and  it  was  soon  very 
plain  that  the  mere  suggestion  of  a  love  story  at- 
tracted the  youngsters  more  than  any  other  part  of 
the  book.  They  demanded  a  sequel.  They  wanted 
to  go  to  Meg's  wedding,  to  see  Jo  and  Beth  and 
Amy  grow  up,  with  lovers  of  their  own ;  to  see 
Jo,  in  particular,  married  to  their  favorite  Laurie; 
but  here  the  much-enduring  author  balked.  She 
wrote  in  her  journal  on  October  30,  1868: 

"  Mr.  Niles  wants  a  second  volume  for  spring. 
Pleasant  notices  and  letters  arrive,  and  much  inter- 
est in  my  '  little  women,'  who  seem  to  find  friends 
by  their  truth  to  life,  as  I  hoped. 

"  November  ist.  Began  the  second  part  of  '  Lit- 
tle Women.'  I  can  do  a  chapter  a  day,  and  in  a 
month  I  mean  to  be  done.  A  little  success  is  so 
inspiring  that  I  now  find  my  Marches  sober,  nice 
people,  and,  as  I  can  launch  into  the  future,  my 
fancy  has  more  play.  Girls  write  to  ask  who  the  lit- 
tle women  marry,  as  if  that  was  the  only  end  and 
aim  of  a  woman's  life.  I  won't  marry  Jo  to  Lau- 
rie to  please  anyone." 

Louisa  always  turned  thorny  over  the  "  lover- 
ing  "  parts,  but  as  the  children  clamored  for  a 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  189 

proper  pairing-off  of  the  March  girls,  she  was 
forced  to  give  in,  and  the  result  was  an  interweav- 
ing of  wholesome  romance  into  this  fine  story  of 
home  life.  There  was  a  touch  of  sympathetic  fin- 
gers about  the  heartstrings  of  these  little  women, 
but  in  spite  of  tears  and  entreaties,  Jo  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  poor  Laurie's  wooing. 

Imploring  letters  poured  in  upon  her,  and  the 
children  were  heartbroken;  in  some  instances  they 
were  made  ill  by  grief  and  excitement,  until  at  last 
Miss  Alcott  was  forced  to  find  some  kind  of  a  lover 
for  her  Jo,  whom  she  had  destined  to  be  a  jolly  old 
maid.  So  Professor  Bhacr  came  upon  the  scene, 
and  soon  won  his  way  into  the  warm  regard  of  the 
young  readers.  We  like  him  better,  perhaps  in 
"  Little  Men  "  and  "  Jo's  Boys,"  where  there  is  not 
such  a  striking  contrast  between  the  polished  Lau- 
rie and  the  gruff  though  kindly  German.  The  chil- 
dren were  mollified  if  not  wholly  satisfied,  and 
the  author  thereafter  was  left  in  peace  on  that 
subject.  But  she  was  no  longer  a  private  person, 
for  every  girl  who  had  read  her  book  claimed  her 
friendship. 

Her  thirty-sixth  birthday  she  spent  alone,  writing 
hard;  she  was  in  a  vortex,  stopping  neither  to  eat 
nor  to  sleep,  and  being  in  Boston  at  that  time,  there 
were  no  interruptions.  In  December,  she  went  back 
to  Concord  to  shut  up  the  house  for  the  winter. 
"  A  cold,  hard,  dirty  time,"  she  writes,  "  but  was 
so  glad  to  be  out  of  Concord  that  I  worked  like  a 


I90  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

beaver,  and  turned  the  key  on  Apple  Slump  with 
joy." 

She  was  worried  about  her  mother,  whose 
health  was  breaking,  and  she  thought  a  winter  with 
Anna  and  the  boys,  sturdy  lads  of  six  and  four, 
would  benefit  her  greatly.  "  I  feel  as  if  the  de- 
cline had  begun  for  her,"  she  says,  "  and  each  year 
will  add  to  the  change  which  is  going  on,  as  time 
alters  the  energetic,  enthusiastic  home  mother  into 
a  gentle,  feeble  old  woman,  to  be  cherished  and 
helped  down  the  long  hill  she  has  climbed  so 
bravely  with  her  many  burdens." 

Louisa  and  May  took  a  sky-parlor  at  the  Belle- 
vue  Hotel,  where  they  "  had  a  queer  time  whisking 
up  and  down  in  the  elevator,  eating  in  a  marble 
cafe,  and  sleeping  on  a  sofa  bed,  that  we  might  be 
genteel.  It  did  not  suit  me  at  all.  A  great  gale 
nearly  blew  the  roof  off,  steam  pipes  exploded,  and 
we  were  hungry.  I  was  very  tired  with  my  hard 
summer,  with  no  rest  for  the  brains  that  earn  the 
money." 

Poor  Louisa !  She  never  spared  herself ;  indeed, 
engrossed  in  her  work,  she  forgot  that  she  had  a 
bundle  of  nerves,  and  a  head  but  too  prone  to  ache 
over  the  slightest  exertion.  So  they  came  down 
.from  their  "  sky  parlor  "  and  went  to  quiet  Chaun- 
cey  Street.  On  January  i,  1869,  Louisa  sent  the 
second  volume  of  "Little  Women"  out  into  the 
world, — a  wide,  wide  world,  as  it  proved,  for  the 
book  has  been  translated  into  French,  German  and 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  191 

Dutch.  In  Holland,  the  first  part  was  called 
"  Under  the  Mother's  Wings,"  and  the  second,  "  On 
Their  Own  Wings." 

In  March,  they  went  back  to  Concord,  for  the  old 
people  were  restless  out  of  the  home  nest;  Louisa 
was  very  tired  and  more  ailing  than  she  dared  to 
say.  Too  much  lay  upon  her  shoulders,  and  she 
could  not  help  feeling  that  if  she  fell  ill  the  family 
would  go  to  pieces,  so  she  would  often  keep  up  and 
write  her  stories  in  spite  of  "  headaches,  cough,  and 
weariness."  She  was  glad  enough  sometimes  when 
the  real  pain  gave  her  an  excuse  for  resting,  for  her 
mind  was  easy  in  spite  of  physical  woes,  and  when 
she  could  not  write,  she  could  at  least  "  think  over 
her  blessings  and  be  grateful,"  for  "  Little  Women  " 
paid  the  last  debts  of  the  family  and  Louisa's 
dreams  were  coming  true.  Each  month,  e^ach 
week,  the  demand  for  "  Little  Women  "  increased, 
until  she  began  to  accept,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the 
large  checks  her  publishers  were  constantly  send- 
ing her. 

She  wrote  to  them,  December  28,  1869,  from 
Boston : 

"  Many  thanks  for  the  check  which  made  my 
Christmas  an  unusually  merry  one. 

"  After  toiling  so  many  years  along  the  uphill 
road — always  a  hard  one  to  women  writers — it  is 
peculiarly  grateful  to  me  to  find  the  way  growing 
easier  at  last,  with  pleasant  little  surprises  blossom- 


I92-  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

ing  on  either  side,  and  the  rough  places  made 
smooth  by  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  those  who 
have  proved  themselves  friends  as  well  as  pub- 
lishers. 

"  With  best  wishes  for  the  coming  year, 
"  I  am,  yours  truly, 

"  L.  M.  ALCOTT." 

Indeed,  this  earnest  young  pilgrim,  who  had  car- 
ried so  many  burdens  and  was  so  very,  very  tired, 
began  to  see  her  goal  in  the  distance.  Surely  for 
some  good  end  they  had  played  at  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress  "  in  their  childhood,  had  read  their  little 
books  and  had  profited  by  their  wisdom;  and  what 
more  fitting  sermon  could  Louisa  preach  to  her 
unknown  thousands  of  young  friends  than  that 
which  she  has  put  into  the  preface  of  her  book, 
adapted  from  John  Bunyan  himself? 

Go  then,  my  little  Book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain,  and  bid  thee  welcome  shall, 
What  thou  dost  keep  close  shut  up  in  thy  breast; 
And  wish  what  thou  dost  show  them  may  be  blest 
To  them  for  good,  may  make  them  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims  better,  by  far,  than  thee  or  me. 
Tell  them  of  Mercy;  she  is  one 
Who  early  hath  her  pilgrimage  begun. 
Yea,  let  young  damsels  learn  of  her  to  prize 
The  world  which  is  to  come,  and  so  be  wise; 
For  little  tripping  maids  may  follow  God 
Along  the  ways  which  saintly  feet  have  trod. 


"LITTLE  WOMEN."  193 

Surely  no  book  has  gone  forth  with  a  simpler 
purpose,  and  just  because  "  Little  Women  "  is  not 
"  preachy  "  it  has  found  its  way  to  the  hearts  of  its 
readers.  Honest  little  girls,  striving  to  be  good 
and  carry  their  burdens  cheerily,  have  prized  it 
through  generations ;  it  has  given  them  a  better  grip 
on  the  small  things  of  life,  which  count  so  much  for 
true  happiness;  but  brightest  of  all  the  gems  the 
book  contains  is  the  radiance  of  mother-love  which 
shines  through  it. 

The  March  girls  loved  their  mother,  made  her 
their  confidante,  and  turned  to  her  through  every 
trial  of  their  lives;  she  was  companion  and  friend 
as  well  as  teacher  and  guide,  and  many  a  girl,  and 
many  a  mother,  has  learned  a  lesson  from  the  beau- 
tiful example  these  "  Little  Women  "  have  set  them. 

Louisa  Alcott  wrote  many  bright  and  wholesome 
stories  after  her  "  luck  child  "  had  found  her  a  cor- 
ner in  the  world  of  fame,  but  "  Little  Women  " 
conies  first  on  the  shelf,  and  in  the  hearts  of  her 
admirers. 


CHAPTER   XII. 
"  WHO'S  WHO." 

HE  chief  charm  of  Miss  Alcott's  stories 
is  the  "  real  life  "  in  them.  Many  au- 
thors write  of  things  that  are  true,  but 
not  all  are  so  happy  in  bringing  the 
vivid  pictures  before  our  minds.  All  the  "  little 
women "  are  very  human  and  very  lovable,  for 
Louisa  drew  portraits  of  her  sisters  and  herself,  with 
a  magic  art,  true  to  life,  rich  in  color. 

Anna,  with  her  sweet  nature,  her  talent  for  act- 
ing, her  little  home  graces  and  dainty  ways,  makes 
a  charming  Meg,  whose  romance  with  John  Brooke 
closes  the  first  volume  with  the  far-off  chime  of 
wedding-bells.  Beth,  the  gentle  household  spirit, 
with  her  love  of  music,  her  sweet  influence,  will 
never  die  to  the  readers  of  "  Little  Women." 
Dear  as  she  was  to  the  turbulent  Jo,  she  was  far 
more  to  Louisa,  who  mingled  the  memory  of  her 
in  many  of  her  tales.  And  golden-haired  Amy 
perhaps  lived  longer  than  all,  for  the  artistic  tal- 
ent was  no  stretch  of  sisterly  imagination.  The 
seed  which  sprouted  in  Amy's  school-days  bore  its 
194 


"WHO'S  WHO."  195 

fruit  in  May  Alcott's  exquisite  work  in  later  years, 
and  the  loving  pen  which  drew  the  self-willed,  some- 
what selfish  little  girl  with  such  faithful  strokes 
showed  later  on  the  graceful  charming  woman  into 
which  she  had  bloomed.  Miss  Alcott  had  many 
golden-haired  heroines  in  her  stories.  Amy  March 
is  an  acknowledged  portrait  of  her  sister,  and  pos- 
sibly the  author  of  "  The  Eight  Cousins  "  drew  the 
portrait  of  Rose  from  the  same  source.  The  best 
and  truest  biography  of  Mrs.  Alcott,  Louisa  has  set 
forth  tenderly  in  the  character  of  Marmee. 

"  A  stout,  motherly  lady  with  a  '  can-I-help-you  ' 
look  about  her,  which  was  truly  delightful.  She 
was  not  a  particularly  handsome  person,  but 
mothers  are  always  lovely  to  their  children,  and 
the  girls  thought  the  gray  cloak  and  unfashion- 
able bonnet  covered  the  most  splendid  woman  in 
the  world." 

This  is  our  introduction  to  our  "  little  women's  " 
Marmee,  and  further  on :  "  The  first  sound  in  the 
morning  was  her  voice  as  she  went  about  the  house, 
singing  like  a  lark;  and  the  last  sound  at  night  was 
the  same  cheery  sound,  for  the  girls  never  grew 
too  old  for  that  familiar  lullaby." 

The  book  is  full  of  her  loving,  living  presence, 
this  Marmee  whom  Louisa  shared  so  generously 
with  a  world  of  girls.  Mrs.  March,  she  tells  us, 
"  is  all  true,  only  not  half  good  enough,"  but  she 
did  not  know  the  power  of  her  pen  and  how  each 
stroke  enhanced  the  beauty  of  the  picture.  This 


I96  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

first  volume  tells  us  little  of  Mr.  March,  though  in 
the  second  part  we  catch  many  sweet  glimpses  of 
Louisa's  "  dear  Plato."  Mr.  Laurence  she  created 
from  the  memory  of  her  grandfather,  Colonel  Jo- 
seph May,  and  the  irascible  old  Aunt  March  was 
really  the  only  character  in  the  book  not  taken  from 
a  living  original.  There  is  scarcely  an  experience 
or  adventure  of  the  four  sisters  which  is  not  true 
to  life.  All  of  Jo's  literary  endeavors  and  Amy's 
artistic  flights  were  real  happenings  in  the  Alcott 
family.  In  the  choice  of  names,  too,  Miss  Alcott 
was  very  clever.  May  being  a  family  name  and 
the  name  of  a  month,  March  suggested  itself  as 
being  equally  appropriate  for  these  "  story-book  " 
girls. 

Meg  was  a  made  name  for  Anna,  though  Louisa 
often  called  her  "  Peggy  " ;  but  Jo  had  been  a  nick- 
name for  boyish  Louisa  during  her  girlhood,  and 
certainly  fits  the  tall,  overgrown  girl  in  "  Little 
Women  "  to  a  "  T."  Beth' s  dear  little  name  stands 
just  as  it  was  in  life,  and  Amy  is  merely  a  trans- 
posing of  letters  in  the  name  of  her  youngest  sis- 
ter, suggesting,  too,  "  Abby,"  which  was  a  favorite 
name  with  her  friends. 

But  the  chapters  that  really  please  us  most  are 
those  that  deal  with  the  "  Laurence  Boy."  About 
one  million  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  girl-readers,  from  ten  to 
fifteen  years  of  age,  have  been  in  love  with  Lau- 
rie during  the  last  forty  years,  and  probably  as 


"WHO'S  WHO."  197 

many  more  faithful  "  loveresses  "  will  rise  up  and 
adore  him  in  the  years  to  come.  But  for  Laurie, 
indeed,  it  is  doubtful  if  Miss  Alcott  herself  could 
have  written  the  book,  and  as  she  made  him  live, 
not  only  in  "  Little  Women  "  but  in  "  Little  Men  " 
and  "  Jo's  Boys  "  as  well,  it  may  prove  interesting 
to  discover  out  of  what  material  she  fashioned  this 
very  best  boy  of  her  very  best  book. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  her  Polish  boy,  Ladislas, 
suggested  the  idea  of  Laurie,  a  nickname  by 
which  she  often  called  him  in  the  pleasant  days  at 
Vevey.  The  dark  foreign  face,  the  love  of  music, 
the  impulsive,  affectionate  disposition,  were  all  finely 
drawn  features  of  this  living  portrait.  Miss  Alcott 
says  :  "  Laurie  is  not  an  American  boy,  though  every 
lad  I  ever  knew  claims  the  character.  He  was  a 
Polish  boy  I  met  abroad  in  1865." 

True,  as  far  as  it  goes,  yet  in  spite  of  this  asser- 
tion, there  has  always  been  a  question  as  to  who 
this  very  real  Laurie  really  was,  and  in  a  series 
of  letters  written  to  Alfred  Whitman  by  Miss  Al- 
cott, covering  a  correspondence  of  eleven  years, 
from  1858-69,  we  have  still  more  evidence  to 
prove  that  the  original  of  Laurie  was  a  divided 
honor. 

In  the  fall  of  1857,  Alfred  Whitman,  a  lonely, 
flaxen-haired  boy,  came  to  Concord  to  attend  Mr. 
Sanborn's  school.  He  lived  in  the  home  of  the 
Minof;  Pratts  and  became  very  intimate  with  John 
Pratt  and  Carrie,  his  only  sister.  John  took  him 


198  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

to  call  upon  the  Alcotts,  just  before  Beth's 
death. 

"  In  the  little  house  near  the  Town  Hall,  .  .  ." 
writes  Alfred  Whitman  himself,  "  began  the  ac- 
quaintance which  was  to  bring  to  John  Pratt  a  lov- 
ing and  devoted  wife  and  to  the  writer  a  life-long 
friendship  with  the  Alcotts  and  the  Pratts.  So 
close  was  the  friendship  and  so  hearty  and  genuine 
the  way  in  which  I  was  taken  into  companionship 
by  these  gifted  people,  that  it  never  occurred  to  me 
that  all,  with  the  exception  of  Abby,  were  at  least 
ten  years  older  than  myself,  and  though  I  was  born 
and  had  lived  all  my  days  in  Massachusetts,  the  last 
year  of  my  life  in  that  State  seems  to  have  in- 
cluded almost  all  that  was  permanent  in  my  mem- 
ory of  it,  and  Concord  the  only  place  I  think  of  as 
home,  though  I  lived  there  not  quite  a  year." 

Alfred  Whitman  became  a  member  of  the  Con- 
cord Dramatic  Union,  organized  by  Mr.  Sanborn, 
with  the  three  Alcott  girls,  George  B.  Bartlett  and 
his  brothers,  Ripley  and  Ned;  Edward  and  Edith 
Emerson,  and  others,  as  members.  The  vestry- 
room  of  the  Unitarian  Church  was  used  as  a  class- 
room by  Mr.  Sanborn,  and  here  they  erected  their 
stage  and  acted  their  dramas. 

Alfred  Whitman  was  a  shy  boy  of  about  fifteen 
when  Louisa  first  met  him ;  he  was  a  blue-eyed,  yel- 
low-haired laddie,  very  much  in  coloring  like  her 
sister  May,  which  attracted  her  at  once,  for  she  ad- 
mired that  type  immensely.  He  was  a  reserved  fel- 


"WHO'S  WHO."  199 

low,  somewhat  sad  and  serious  at  times,  but  Louisa 
found  him  out  at  last,  thanks  to  Dickens.  The 
Concord  Dramatic  Union  gave  a  series  of  plays  and 
dramatized  scenes  from  his  writings,  most  of  them 
Louisa's  clever  work,  and  she  and  Alfred  Whitman 
did  some  good  acting  together.  She  tells  us  about 
him  in  "  My  Boys,"  the  first  story  of  "  Aunt  Jo's 
Scrap-Bag." 

"  My  special  boy  of  the  batch  was  A.,  proud  and 
cold  and  shy  to  other  people,  sad  and  serious  some- 
times, when  his  good  heart  and  tender  conscience 
showed  him  his  shortcomings,  but  so  grateful  for 
sympathy  and  a  kind  word.  .  .  . 

"  We  played  Dolphus  and  Sophy  Tetfrrby  in 
'  The  Haunted  Man,'  at  one  of  the  school  festivals ; 
and  during  the  rehearsals  I  discovered  that  my 
Dolphus  was — permit  the  expression,  oh,  well-bred 
readers — a  trump!  What  fun  we  had  to  be  sure, 
acting  the  droll  and  pathetic  scenes  together,  with  a 
swarm  of  little  Tetterbys  skirmishing  about  us. 
From  that  time  he  has  been  my  Dolphus  and  I  his 
Sophy,  and  my  yellow-haired  laddie  doesn't  forget 
me  though  he  was  a  younger  Sophy  now,  and  some 
small  Tetterbys  of  his  own." 

In  November,  1858,  Alfred  Whitman  left  Con- 
cord for  his  new  home  in  Kansas,  and  from  that 
time  kept  up  a  vigorous  correspondence  with  the 
Alcott  family.  The  letters  of  Louisa,  he  writes, 
"  were  the  most  inspiring,  and  it  is  because  I  feel 
that  they  illustrate  a  phase  of  her  character  that 
14 


200  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

has  not  been  shown  to  the  public  as  it  should  have 
been,  that  I  have  consented  to  their  publication." 
Brave,  bright,  and  hopeful  are  the  letters  which 
cover  this  period,  all  the  sweetest  and  most  at- 
tractive side  of  Louisa's  nature  shone  forth 
in  her  intercourse  with  boys,  and  this  boy, 
in  particular,  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  her  warm 
affection. 

But  the  closing  letter  of  the  series  is  the 
"  clincher  "  which  shows  beyond  all  shadow  of  a 
doubt  that  Alfred  Whitman  was  as  much  the  orig- 
inal of  Laurie  as  the  ever-fascinating  Polish  Ladis- 
las.  It  was  written  immediately  after  she  had  placed 
Part  Second  of  "  Little  Women  "  in  her  publisher's 
hands. 

Mr.  F.  B.  Sanborn,  Miss  Alcott's  life-long  friend, 
introduces  the  letter  with  this  brief  foreword : 

"  As  for  Miss  Alcott's  statement  that  Laurie 
was  wholly  Ladislas,  that  must  have  been  to  escape 
annoying  hints  and  questions,  for  it  was  obvious 
from  the  first  that  the  Polish  lad  could  not  have 
sat  for  the  distinctly  American  traits  in  that  com- 
posite and  glorious  human  boy.  Concord  people 
have  always  felt  that  the  Polish  boy  was  not  the 
sole  original,  and  they  have  tried  to  guess  who 
the  other  person  really  was.  This  letter  solves  the 
mystery,  for  written  when  the  book  was  fresh,  it 
tells  the  evident  truth. 

"  F.  B.  SANBORN." 


"WHO'S  WHO."  201 

And  here  is  the  letter : 

"BOSTON,  January  6,  1869. 
"  DEAR  ALF  : 

"  I  have  planned  to  write  you  dozens  of  times, 
but  work  prevented;  but  now  I  really  will,  though 
piles  of  MSS.  lie  waiting  for  my  editorial  eye. 
Don't  you  ever  think  old  Sophy  forgets  her  Dol- 
phus!  Why,  bless  your  heart,  I  put  you  into  my 
story  as  one  of  the  best  and  dearest  lads  I  ever 
knew!  Laurie  is  you  and  my  Polish  boy  jointly. 
You  are  the  sober  half,  and  my  Ladislas  (whom  I 
met  abroad)  the  gay,  whirligig  half;  he  was  a  per- 
fect dear. 

"  All  my  little  girl  friends  are  madly  in  love  with 
Laurie  and  insist  on  a  sequel,  so  I  have  written 
one  which  will  make  you  laugh,  especially  the  pair- 
ing-off  part.  But  I  didn't  know  how  to  settle  my 
family  any  other  way.  I  wanted  to  disappoint  the 
young  gossips,  who  vowed  that  Laurie  and  I 
should  marry.  Authors  take  dreadful  liberties,  but 
you  will  not  mind  being  a  happy  spouse  and  a 
proud  papa,  will  you? 

".  .  .  If  anything  in  those  old  times  does  you 
good  and  makes  the  memory  sweet,  I  am  truly  glad, 
for  it  gives  an  added  charm  to  home,  to  go  halves 
in  it  with  some  one  who  hasn't  got  any,  and  I 
should  very  much  like  to  find  another  Alf  to  fill  the 
empty  place  there,  if  that  was  possible. 

"  I'm  fond  of  boys,  as  you  may  have  discovered ; 
I  always  want  one  somewhere  handy,  so,  as  you  say 


202  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

you  haven't  grown  up  (which  is  a  great  comfort 
to  me),  I  wish  you'd  come  East  and  be  our  Alf 
again,  if  Mrs.  Mary  doesn't  object. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear  boy,  write  to  me  and  you 
shall  truly  get  an  answer  from, 

"  Your  ever  loving  old 

"  SOPHY." 

There  is  a  picture  of  this  fair-haired  boy,  a  hand- 
some, thoughtful,  most  attractive  face  he  had;  but 
Louisa's  Laurie  was  painted  with  Ladislas's  color- 
ing, dark  hair  and  eyes,  with  a  dreamy  expression 
and  a  musical  soul,  that  certainly  did  not  belong  to 
the  New  England  boy,  while  the  broad  shoulders, 
athletic,  well-knit  figure,  the  prowess  in  boating, 
skating,  horseback  riding,  and  all  active  games  were 
not  attributes  of  the  delicate  Polish  boy,  as  Louisa 
knew  him. 

Alfred  Whitman's  most  intimate  friend  in  Con- 
cord was  John  Pratt,  who,  though  many  years 
older,  took  a  real  brotherly  interest  in  the  lad.  In 
their  intercourse  with  the  Alcott  family,  they  were 
always  together,  so  in  "  Little  Women  "  Louisa  had 
brought  out  the  friendship  between  Laurie  and  John 
Brooke,  who  was  a  faithful  likeness  of  her  brother- 
in-law.  Indeed,  in  the  first  volume,  the  New  Eng- 
land boy  takes  the  lead,  save  in  flashes  of  mischief, 
which  Miss  Alcott  tells  us  belonged  to  Ladislas. 

In  the  second  volume,  there  is  a  delightful  mix- 
ture of  the  romantic  young  foreigner,  and  the  mis- 


"WHO'S  WHO."  203 

chievous  undergraduate  in  the  "  grown-up  Laurie  " 
as  we  see  him  first  after  the  lapse  of  three  years. 
His  passion  for  Jo  is  very  American,  and  he  bore 
his  defeat  with  true  New  England  fortitude;  but 
from  the  time  he  decided  to  go  abroad  and  forget 
this  hard-hearted  young  person,  the  New  England 
part  of  him  vanished.  Every  disappointed  girl  re- 
members that  parting — how  he  embraced  them  all, 
and  ran  downstairs  as  if  for  his  life. 

"  Jo  followed  a  minute  after  to  wave  her  hand  to 
him  if  he  looked  round.  He  did  look  round,  came 
back,  put  his  arms  about  her  as  she  stood  on  the  step 
above  him,  and  looked  up  at  her,  with  a  face  that 
made  his  short  appeal  both  eloquent  and  pathetic. 

"  '  Oh,  Jo,  can't  you?  ' 

"  '  Teddy,  dear,  I  wish  I  could ! ' 

"  That  was  all,  except  a  little  pause ;  then  Laurie 
straightened  himself  up,  said :  '  It's  all  right,  never 
mind  ' — and  went  away  without  another  word.  Ah, 
but  it  wasn't  all  right,  and  Jo  did  mind;  for  while 
the  curly  head  lay  on  her  arm  a  minute  after  her 
hard  answer,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  stabbed  her  dear- 
est friend ;  and  when  he  left  her  without  a  look  be- 
hind him,  she  knew  that  the  boy  Laurie  would  never 
come  again." 

That  was  her  last  glimpse  of  Laddie,  when  they 
parted  in  Paris  and  he  asked  for  the  "  sweet  English 
good-by."  From, that  time  we  see  most  of  Ladislas, 
until  in  the  last  chapter,  under  the  apple  trees  at 
Plumfield,  the  New  England  part  of  him  appears 


204  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

again  in  "  the  happy  spouse  and  the  proud  papa  " 
with  his  little  golden-haired  girl  in  his  arms,  and 
his  handsome,  golden-haired  wife  close  by. 

A  most  lovable  "  glorious  human  boy,"  the  nicest 
boy  that  ever  shone  as  the  hero  of  a  girl's  book,  and 
"  true  "  straight  through,  every  inch  of  him ! 

Every  enthusiastic  reader  claimed  a  "  favorite  " 
chapter,  and  Miss  Alcott  was  deluged  with  letters 
from  every  quarter;  honest  and  full  of  admiration 
they  were,  and  save  for  the  fact  that  they  came  in 
shoals,  she  would  have  liked  to  answer  each  one ;  but 
as  that  could  not  be,  she  contented  herself  with  pick- 
ing a  few  pretty  buds  of  friendship  from  among 
these  flowery  epistles. 

We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Bok,  of  the  Ladies'  Home 
Journal,  for  a  charming  glimpse  of  Miss  Alcott's 
association  with  girls,  for,  after  writing  "  Little 
Women,"  she  had  to  tuck  her  pet  boys  in  one  corner 
of  her  heart,  and  open  another  corner  to  the  thou- 
sands of  girls  who  knocked  for  admittance.  A 
special  bunch  of  "  little  women "  from  Pennsyl- 
vania, five  in  number — and  sisters,  were  much  inter- 
ested in  the  Pickwick  Portfolio  and  resolved  to  fol- 
low the  March  girls'  example,  and  print  a  little 
paper  of  their  own.  Their  father  bought  them  type 
and  a  printing  press,  and  "  in  a  short  time  the  first 
issue  of  Little  Things  appeared,  edited  by  Carrie, 
Maggie,  Nellie,  Emma,  and  Helen  Lukens,  the  eld- 
est of  whom  was  barely  seventeen."  They  sent  a 
copy,  of  course,  to  Miss  Alcott,  who  was  not  only 


"WHO'S  WHO."  205 

delighted  with  the  appearance  of  the  little  paper,  but 
with  the  pluck  and  energy  of  the  editors,  and  soon 
began  to  take  a  personal  interest  in  the  girls,  which 
lasted  through  the  rest  of  her  life.  Their  friendship 
began  and  ended  in  letters,  for  they  never  met.  But 
"  Little  Women  "  drew  them  close  together  to  begin 
with ;  the  girls'  letters  were  well  written  and  clever ; 
Louisa's  were  reproductions  of  herself,  original, 
witty,  sensible  and  helpful,  full  of  friendly  advice 
about  themselves  and  their  paper. 

Her  first  letter  to  them,  dated  Concord,  August 
3,  1872,  begins: 

"  MY  DEAR  LITTLE  WOMEN  : 

"  I  will  certainly  answer  your  pleasant  letter  and 
very  gladly  subscribe  to  your  paper,  although  it  has 
not  yet  arrived.  My  two  '  little  men '  at  once  de- 
manded it  and  were  much  impressed  with  the  idea 
of  girls  having  a  printing  press  and  getting  out  a 
'  truly  paper.'  I  admire  your  pluck  and  persever- 
ance, and  heartily  believe  in  women's  right  to  any 
branch  of  labor  for  which  they  prove  their  fitness. 
Work  is  such  a  beautiful  and  helpful  thing,  and  in- 
dependence so  delightful,  that  I  wonder  there  are 
any  lazy  people  in  the  world.  I  hope  you  preach 
that  doctrine  in  your  paper,  not  in  the  rampant 
Woman's  Rights  fashion,  but  by  showing  how  much 
women  can  do,  even  in  attending  skillfully  to  the 
'  little  things '  that  have  such  an  influence  on  home 
life,  and  through  it,  upon  the  world  outside." 


206  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

She  closes  by  saying :  "  Please  present  my  re- 
spects to  the  wise  father  of  the  five  happy  girls,  and 
with  best  wishes  for  the  success  of  the  paper,  be- 
lieve me  very  sincerely  your  friend  and  fellow- 
worker, 

"  LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT." 

Proud  girls  they  were  with  such  a  letter,  and 
there  were  many  more  to  come.  "  Dear  Girls  "  she 
wrote  them  in  her  next  letter,  then  "  Dear  Sisters," 
and,  finally,  she  called  them  by  name,  with  a  cer- 
tain boyish  friendliness  which  was  part  of  Louisa, 
for  she  liked  these  girls,  with  their  frank  manner 
of  asking  questions  and  criticising  her  books.  In 
one  letter  she  sent,  by  request,  a  photograph  of  her- 
self, and,  after  seeing  a  reprint  of  it,  one  need 
scarcely  wonder  that  these  girls  and  the  friends  to 
whom  they  showed  it  were  disappointed.  She 
writes  in  a  postscript — she  was  very  fond  of  post- 
scripts : 

"  I  send  you  the  last  photograph  I  have — not  very 
good,  but  you  can't  make  a  Venus  out  of  a  tired  old 
lady." 

Now,  considering  this  "  old  lady  "  was  but  forty 
at  the  time  of  writing,  the  girls  might  reasonably 
have  expected  something  less  settled.  The  spinster 
of  forty  these  days  does  not  take  to  shawls  and 
middle-aged  adornments.  Louisa's  glorious  chest- 
nut hair,  fine  eyes  and  complexion,  and  beautiful 
nose  deserved  better  treatment.  Nowadays  we  do 


'WHO'S  WHO."  207 

not  go  by  rule  in  dress;  we  are  more  apt  to  consult 
the  becoming,  and  if  the  prevailing  style  makes  us 
look  younger,  so  much  the  better.  But  in  Louisa's 
time  there  were  unwritten  laws  concerning  dress; 
there  was  a  style  for  each  period.  Ladies  of  forty  or 
more  wore  shawls,  and  downright  honest  Louisa 
draped  one  over  her  shoulders,  thereby  upsetting 
all  popular  ideas  of  boyish  Jo. 

"  I  sympathize  with  your  friends  on  seeing  my 
picture,"  she  writes  in  another  letter  [they  were 
honest  enough  to  speak  their  minds],  "  for  I  re- 
member I  was  so  upset  when  I  saw  Fredericka 
Bremer,  whose  books  I  loved,  that  my  sister  Nan 
and  I  went  into  a  closet  and  cried,  though  we  were 
great  girls  of  sixteen  and  eighteen." 

The  five  young  editors  sent  her  their  photo- 
graphs, and  she  wrote  them  an  enthusiastic  letter  of 
thanks. 

"  DEAR  SISTERS  : 

"  I  waited  till  the  five  were  all  here  before  I  sent 
my  thanks.  They  make  a  very  pretty  little  '  land- 
scape,' as  Jo  used  to  say,  all  in  a  group  on  my  table, 
and  I  am  glad  to  show  such  a  posy  of  bright,  enter- 
prising girls.  Long  may  they  wave !  My  Marmee, 
though  very  feeble  now,  was  much  pleased  at  your 
message,  and  said,  in  her  motherly  way,  as  she 
looked  at  the  five  faces : 

"  '  Little  dears,  I  wish  I  could  see  'em  all  and  do 
something  for  'em.' 


208  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

"  Perhaps  some  of  these  summers  we  may  see  a 
band  of  pilgrims  coming  up  to  our  door,  and  then 
the  three  old  March  girls  and  the  five  young  L — 
ditto  will  sit  in  a  bunch  and  spin  yarns.  Play 
we  do." 

Evidently  the  girls  had  literary  ambition,  and 
sought  her  advice,  which  she  freely  gave  them. 

"  Of  one  thing  let  me,  an  old  scribbler,  warn 
you,"  she  goes  on.  "  Don't  write  with  steel  pens, 
or  you  will  have  what  is  called  '  writer's  cramp ' 
and  lose  the  use  of  your  thumb,  as  I  have.  I  have 
to  wabble  around  with  two  fingers,  while  my  absurd 
thumb  is  folded  under  and  no  good  for  pen  work, 
though  all  right  for  other  things.  Look  at  my  wild 
scribbles  and  use  cork  penholders  or  gold  pens,  and 
don't  write  fourteen  hours  at  a  stretch,  as  I  used 
to  do." 

Think  of  a  writer  now,  dependent  on  steel  pens 
and  a  bottle  of  ink!  Had  Louisa  in  the  early  days 
of  her  career  used  a  typewriter  and  a  fountain  pen, 
there  is  no  telling  how  many  more  delightful  books 
would  have  fallen  to  our  share  and  how  much  less 
the  worn-out  nerves  and  the  aching  head  would 
have  had  to  tax  them. 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  continues,  "  there  is  ironing 
and  preserving  to  rest  the  busy  brains  with  good, 
wholesome  work.  I  believe  in  it  so  heartily  that 
I  sweep  my  eight  rooms  twice  a  week,  iron  and 
scrub  around  for  health's  sake,  as  I  have  found  it 
better  medicine  than  any  doctor  ever  gave  me." 


"WHO'S  WHO."  209 

Energetic  Louisa  carried  her  "  medicine  "  almost 
too  far  at  times.  The  hospital  strain  had  not  daunt- 
ed her  soul,  but  it  had  certainly  weakened  her  body, 
and  rest,  as  she  found  out  later,  was  what  she 
needed  above  all.  Of  course,  she  added  a  postscript 
— a  most  interesting  one : 

"  You  may  like  to  know  that  my  Polish  boy, 
Laddie  (or  Laurie),  has  turned  up  in  New  York, 
alive  and  well,  with  a  wife  and  '  two  little  daugh- 
ters,' as  he  says  in  his  funny  English.  He  is  com- 
ing to  see  me,  and  I  expect  to  find  my  romantic 
boy  a  stout  papa — the  glory  all  gone.  Isn't  it  sad? 

"  As  I  can't  give  or  lend  you  the  dear  old  original, 
I  send  you  a  picture  of  Marmee,  taken  some  ten  or 
fifteen  years  ago.  She  is  much  changed  now,  wears 
caps  and  is  old  and  broken  sadly." 

In  another  letter  she  says : 

"  Why  people  will  think  Jo  small,  when  she  is 
described  as  tall,  I  can't  see;  and  why  insist  that 
she  must  be  young,  when  she  is  said  to  be  thirty  at 
the  end  of  the  book  ?  " 

Concerning  Jo,  Miss  Alcott  and  her  reading  pub- 
lic were  always  squabbling;  the  truthful  author- 
ess must  cast  no  glamour  of  romance  around  her, 
while  enthusiastic  readers  built  castles  in  the  air, 
which  everyday  Jo  refused  to  inhabit.  Indeed,  to 
Louisa  herself,  the  March  girls  had  become  real 
people,  and  she  talked  about  them  quite  as  inti- 
mately as  she  discussed  her  own  family  affairs,  and 
the  correspondence  with  these  other  "  little  women  " 


210  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

made  them  seem  even  more  real.  So  we  see  what 
this  one  simple  little  story  has  done  for  the  world 
of  girls,  but  we  can  never  know  what  it  did  for 
Louisa  herself. 

Unwillingly  she  had  turned  out  of  her  way  into 
this  new  path,  never  dreaming  she  would  find  her 
goal  at  the  end  of  this  little  country  road,  and  she 
was  rewarded  by  having  flowers  spring  up  around 
her,  sweeter  and  lovelier  than  any  she  had  yet 
gathered.  She  herself  looked  on  in  wonder,  as,  one 
by  one,  her  dearest  hopes  were  gratified ;  she  had 
only  to  put  forth  her  hand  and  it  was  filled  with 
gold,  which  she  scattered  broadcast  for  the  good  of 
others.  She  began  to  love  the  girls  for  whom  she 
wrote,  she  studied  them,  she  had  much  to  say  to 
them,  for  they  had  brought  her  luck.  She  never 
forsook  her  boys,  but  when  fair  young  faces  beamed 
upon  her,  and  girlish  hearts  took  her  in,  and  girlish 
hands  stretched  out  to  her,  who  could  hold  back? 
Surely  not  Louisa!  She  embraced  them  all  in  her 
wholesome,  hearty  way ;  they  became  her  dear  "  lit- 
tle sisters,"  and  she  worked  for  them  all  the  rest  of 
her  life. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"  SHAWL   STRAPS." 

|HILE  the  world  rang  with  the  praises  of 
"  Little  Women,"  Louisa,  ill  and  tired, 
found  that  being  a  celebrated  person 
was  just  a  bit  annoying. 

"  People  begin  to  come  and  stare  at  the  Alcotts," 
she  writes  in  her  journal.  "  Reporters  haunt  the 
place  to  look  at  the  authoress,  who  dodges  into  the 
woods  a  la  Hawthorne,  and  won't  be  even  a  very 
small  lion." 

But  it  was  pleasant  to  rest  and  take  breath  after 
the  long  uphill  struggle,  and  the  winter  of  1869 
was  happily  spent  in  Boston,  doing  very  little  liter- 
ary work  beyond  revising  "  Hospital  Sketches,"  to 
which  she  added  six  "  Camp  and  Fireside  Stories." 
These  she  handed  over  to  Roberts  Brothers,  and 
they  were  republished  with  great  success.  Money 
now  came  in  so  plentifully  that  she  was  able  to  put 
by  small  sums  for  investment,  besides  making  her 
beloved  family  "  cozy  and  comfortable." 

The  early  summer  months  she  stayed  in  Concord, 
but  she  was  never  well  there,  and  the  long  hot  days 
were  very  trying  to  her.  Her  health  demanded  a 


212  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

change,  so  she  spent  the  month  of  July  with  her 
cousins,  the  Frothinghams,  in  Canada.  They  had 
a  house  at  Riviere  du  Loup,  "  a  little  village  on  the 
St.  Lawrence,  full  of  queer  people.  Drove,  read, 
and  walked  with  the  little  ones.  A  pleasant,  quiet, 
time." 

"August.  A  month  with  May  at  Mt.  Desert. 
A  gay  time  and  a  little  rest  and  pleasure  before  the 
old  pain  and  worry  began  again.  Made  up  a 
thousand  dollars  for  S.  E.  S.  to  invest.  Now  I 
have  twelve  hundred  for  a  rainy  day  and  no  debts. 
With  that  thought  I  can  bear  neuralgia  gayly." 

Indeed,  pain  was  now  Louisa's  unfailing  guest. 

In  the  autumn  they  all  went  to  Boston.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Alcott  to  stay  with  Anna,  while  Louisa  and 
May  had  pleasant  rooms  not  far  away.  At  this 
time,  Mrs.  Cheney  tells  us,  that  Louisa  "  not  being 
well  enough  to  do  much  new  work,  began  using  up 
her  old  stories,  and  found  the  '  little  women  '  helped 
their  rejected  sisters  to  good  places,  where  once 
they  went  a-begging."  As  the  winter  came  upon 
them  she  grew  more  and  more  ailing,  and  when  in 
February  she  finished  "  The  Old-Fashioned  Girl," 
she  was  quite  used  up. 

"  I  wrote  it  with  left  hand  in  a  sling,  one  foot  up, 
head  aching,  and  no  voice.  Yet  as  the  book  is 
funny,  people  will  say  '  Didn't  you  enjoy  doing  it?  ' 
I  often  think  of  poor  Tom  Hood  as  I  scribble  rather 
than  lie  and  groan.  I  certainly  earn  my  living  by 
the  sweat  of  my  brow." 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  213 

But  she  soon  began  to  realize  the  penalties  of 
greatness ;  the  public  besieged  her,  not  only  did  the 
children,  for  whom  she  wrote,  clamor  for  "  more 
stories,  more,  right  away,"  but  even  their  elders 
began  to  act  foolishly.  Poor  Louisa,  who  loved  the 
big  world,  found  the  strangers  who  "  demanded  to 
look  at  her,  question,  advise,  warn,  congratulate  " — 
most  tiresome,  impertinent  beings.  With  no  claim 
upon  her,  they  would  invade  her  privacy  and  drive 
her  to  distraction.  She  bore  this  very  quietly  in  the 
early  days  of  her  fame,  but  in  "  Jo's  Boys,"  the  last 
of  the  "  Little  Women  "  series,  in  the  chapter  called 
"Jo's  Last  Scrape,"  she  speaks  her  mind,  after 
years  of  torment. 

Taken  as  a  whole,  this  clever  chapter  is  a  com- 
plete and  spirited  autobiography  of  Louisa,  at  the 
time  of  the  launching  of  "  Little  Women,"  and,  to 
be  properly  appreciated,  should  be  read  aloud  by 
some  one  whose  sense  of  humor  is  as  keen  as  hers 
was.  She  says  of  herself: 

"  Things  always  went  by  contraries  with  Jo.  Her 
first  book,  labored  over  for  years,  .  .  .  foundered 
on  its  voyage.  .  .  .  The  hastily  written  story,  sent 
away  with  no  thought  beyond  the  few  dollars  it 
might  bring,  sailed  with  a  fair  wind  and  a  wise 
pilot  at  the  helm  straight  into  public  favor,  and  came 
home  heavily  laden  with  an  unexpected  cargo  of 
gold  and  glory. 

"  She  did  her  best  for  the  children,  .  .  .  feeling 
that  she  owed  a  good  deal  to  the  little  friends  in 


2i4  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

whose  sight  she  had  found  favor  after  twenty  years 
of  effort. 

"  But  a  time  came  when  her  patience  gave  out ; 
and  wearying  of  being  a  lion,  she  became  a  bear  in 
nature  as  in  name,  and  retiring  to  her  jien,  growled 
awfully  when  ordered  out" 

It  was  certainly  very  funny,  but  no  less  annoying, 
for  all  that.  If  the  demand  for  autographs  and 
photographs  had  been  the  only  grievance,  she  might 
have  borne  it  calmly,  but  "  when  a  series  of  enthu- 
siastic boarding  schools  had  ravaged  her  grounds 
for  trophies,  and  a  steady  stream  of  amiable  pilgrims 
had  worn  her  doorsteps  with  their  respectful  feet: 
when  servants  left  after  a  week's  trial  of  the  bell 
that  rang  all  day,"  then  did  Louisa  begin  seriously 
to  think  of  flight.  Not  anywhere  in  America  could 
she  hide  herself — she  was  known  far  and  wride. 
Even  her  father,  whose  true  worth  and  talents  had 
never  before  been  appreciated,  was  now  welcomed 
everywhere  with  open  arms,  as  the  "  Grandfather  of 
'  Little  Women.'  "  The  ocean  must  roll  between 
her  and  her  too  ardent  admirers.  She  was  abso- 
lutely not  strong  enough  to  stand  her  popularity. 
Perhaps  the  following  poem  from  an  unknown  gen- 
ius hastened  her  decision.  Such  absurdity  always 
roused  her  wrath. 

In  "  Jo's  Boys  "  it  was  dedicated  to  J.  M.  B., 
and  with  the  exception  of  the  last  verse,  which 
she  altered  for  the  use  of  her  story,  is  a  true 
offering. 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  215 

"  Oh,  were  I  a  heliotrope 

I  would  play  poet, 
And  blow  a  breeze  of  fragrance 
To  you;  and  none  should  know  it. 

"  Your  form  like  the  stately  elm, 

When  Phoebus  gilds  the  morning  ray, 
Your  cheek  like  the  ocean  bed 
That  blooms  a  rose  in  May. 

"  Your  words  are  wise  and  bright, 

I  bequeath  them  to  you  a  legacy  given, 
And  when  your  spirit  takes  its  flight, 
May  it  bloom  a  flower  in  Heaven. 

"  My  tongue  in  flattering  language  spoke, 

And  sweeter  silence  never  broke, 
In  busiest  street  or  loneliest  glen. 
I  take  you  with  the  flashes  of  my  pen, 

"  Consider  the  lilies,  how  they  grow; 

They  toil  not,  yet  are  fair 
Gems  and  flowers  and  Solomon's  seal. 
The  geranium  of  the  world  is  J.  M.  Bhaer. 

"  JAMES." 

Any  more  such  poems  would  have  made  Louisa 
feel  like  endowing  an  asylum  for  lunatics,  and  so 
she  ran  for  her  life  to  the  other  side  of  the  world. 

May  was  invited  by  a  friend  to  go  abroad,  on 
condition  that  Louisa  would  be  of  the  party.  For 
a  long  time  she  hesitated ;  she  was  not  well  and  the 

15 


2i6  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

undertaking  looked  enormous.  But  her  sister  was 
wild  to  go,  and  the  two  younger  women  were  really 
dependent  on  an  older  head  and  wiser  judgment; 
besides,  Louisa  had  been  abroad  before  and  knew 
something  of  foreign  travel,  so  after  much  hesitation 
she  "  gave  in." 

Their  minds  made  up,  it  did  not  take  the  trio 
long  to  get  ready,  and  on  the  first  of  April,  "  fit 
day  for  my  undertaking"  she  says  in  her  journal, 
"  May  and  I  went  to  New  York  to  meet  Alice  Bart- 
lett  with  John  for  escort.  Everyone  very  kind, 
thirty  gifts,  a  parting  ball  among  our  housemates, 
and  a  great  cake.  Half  a  dozen  devoted  beings  at 
the  station  to  see  us  off.  But  I  remember  only 
Father  and  Mother,  as  they  went  away  the  day  be- 
fore, leaving  the  two  ambitious  daughters  to  sail 
away,  perhaps  forever.  Mother  kept  up  bravely 
and  nodded  and  smiled ;  but  at  the  corner  I  saw  the 
white  handkerchief  go  up  to  the  eyes,  after  being 
gayly  waved  to  us.  May  and  I  broke  down  and 
said :  '  We  won't  go/  but  next  day  we  set  forth  as 
young  birds  will,  and  left  the  nest  empty  for  a  year. 

"  Sailed  on  the  2d  in  a  gale  of  wind,  in  the 
French  steamer  Lafayette  for  Brest.  Our  adven- 
tures are  told  in  '  Shawl  Straps.'  '  Old-Fashioned 
Girl '  came  out  in  March  and  sold  well.  Train-boy 
going  to  New  York  put  it  into  my  lap,  and  when 
I  said  I  didn't  care  for  it,  exclaimed  with  surprise : 
*  Bully  book,  ma'am.  Sell  a  lot ;  better  have  it.' 

"  John  told  him  I  wrote  it ;  and  his  chuckle,  stare, 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  217 

and  astonished  '  No ! '  was  great  fun.  On  the 
steamer  little  girls  had  it,  and  came  in  a  party  to 
call  on  me,  very  seasick  in  my  berth,  done  up  like  a 
mummy." 

It  did  not  need  "  Little  Women's "  popularity 
alone  to  sell  "  An  Old-Fashioned  Girl."  Nowhere 
could  one  find  a  more  charming  heroine  in  girldom 
than  this  sweet,  simple,  pretty,  old-fashioned  Polly. 
We  all  love  her  and  sympathize  with  the  many  trials 
and  tests  which  did  their  part  in  the  making  of  a 
lovely  young  woman. 

Polly  is  what  might  be  called  a  composite  photo- 
graph, that  is  to  say,  Miss  Alcott  took  the  best  traits 
of  all  the  best  girls  she  knew,  and  smoothed  them 
out  and  polished  them  up,  and  set  them  to  music  in 
the  soul  of  this  little  country  girl.  Not  that  Polly 
was  perfect,  for  then  she  would  have  been  an  im- 
possible little  prig;  but  she  was  very  human  and 
very  real,  and  the  boy  Tom,  with  his  freckled  face 
and  red  hair,  full  of  mischief,  but  sound  at  the 
kernel,  was  a  real  boy,  too,  a  boy  after  Louisa's  own 
heart. 

She  brings  the  country  mouse  to  the  city,  but  one 
can  see  at  a  glance  that  Polly  came  from  Concord, 
and  the  simple  teaching  of  a  certain  wise  mother 
found  its  way  into  the  heart  of  Boston.  Louisa  al- 
ways despised  the  hollowness  and  shams  of  what 
was  called  "  good  society,"  and  that  pretty,  honest 
Polly  was  able  to  see  the  best  side  of  it  is  a  great 
satisfaction  to  the  girl  readers.  The  same  little 


2i8  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Pollys  can  be  found  to-day  who  existed  forty  years 
ago ;  indeed,  time  gives  only  an  added  touch  of  color 
to  Miss  Alcott's  boys  and  girls.  So  well  she  loved 
them,  so  thoroughly  she  knew  them,  that  we  have 
them  with  us  always  as  real,  as  truly  living  as  in 
the  past.  Leaving  this  golden  egg  behind  her,  the 
"  ugly  duckling,"  as  Louisa  laughingly  called  her- 
self, sailed  away  with  the  proud  air  of  a  swan. 

This  trip  to  Europe  was  many  strides  ahead  of 
the  other.  In  1865,  Louisa,  wrorn-out  by  a  long 
illness,  and  anxious  for  a  change  she  could  ill  afford, 
took  advantage  of  an  opportunity  and  went  over  as 
the  companion  of  an  invalid.  In  1870,  still  in 
search  of  health,  she  crossed  again,  but  think  what 
a  difference !  Here  she  was,  a  woman  of  independ- 
ent means,  able  to  go  where  she  liked  and  do  what 
she  pleased,  having  left  all  safe  and  comfortable  at 
home.  Besides  this,  she  was  one  of  a  very  lively 
trio,  and  though  in  "  Shawl  Straps  "  she  persistently 
described  herself,  under  the  name  of  Lavinia,  as  an 
old  lady,  she  was  only  thirty-seven  when  they  set 
out. 

She  has  left  us  many  pleasant  memories  of  her 
year's  travel,  delightful  letters  and  jottings  in  her 
journal,  and  the  little  book,  "  Shawl  Straps,"  which 
is  a  graphic  account  of  their  tour  through  France. 
It  came  out  first  serially  in  the  Christian  Union  at 
the  request  of  her  friend,  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher 
Stowe.  Afterwards  it  was  published  by  Roberts 
Brothers  as  the  second  volume  of  "  Aunt  Jo's  Scrap- 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  219 

Bag,"  and  makes  interesting-  reading  for  any  boy  or 
girl  who  wishes  to  know  something  of  the  countries 
through  which  they  flitted. 

They  had  a  jolly  time  aboard  ship  in  spite  of  sea- 
sickness and  ceaseless  pitching,  for  they  were  driv- 
ing in  the  very  teeth  of  a  gale.  Their  friend  she 
named  Amanda  in  "Shawl  Straps";  May  she 
dubbed  Matilda,  and  these  maidens  played  prom- 
inent and  funny  parts  all  through  their  adventures. 

Such  a  year  as  that  was !  Such  glimpses  of  inter- 
esting countries !  Amanda  was  their  stand-by,  for 
she  could  speak  French,  and  from  the  time  they 
landed  in  Brest  until  they  reached  English-speaking 
London,  they  depended  on  her  entirely. 

Louisa  divided  "  Shawl  Straps  "  into  six  parts. 
The  first  was  naturally  called  "  Off  ";  then  followed 
"Brittany,"  "France,"  "Italy,"  "Switzerland," 
and  "  London."  They  spent  the  spring  and  summer 
in  Brittany.  Landing  at  Brest,  they  went  by  train 
to  Morlaix,  their  first  stopping  place,  and  as  Louisa 
tells  us  in  "  Shawl  Straps,"  "  through  a  green  and 
blooming  country  so  unlike  the  New  England  spring 
they  had  left  behind  that  they  rejoiced  like  butter- 
flies in  the  sunshine." 

They  drove  to  Dinan,  some  fourteen  miles,  "  in  a 
ramshackle  carriage,  drawn  by  three  fierce  little 
horses,  with  their  tails  done  up  in  braided  chignons, 
and  driven  by  a  humpback."  Here  their  adventures 
began,  for  these  three  young  women,  who  had  come 
to  enjoy  themselves,  found  much  to  laugh  at  among 


220  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

their  companions,  from  the  sleepy  old  priest  who 
smoked  his  pipe  the  whole  way,  to  the  big  tipsy 
Frenchman,  who  paid  violent  attention  to  poor 
abashed  Amanda,  and  informed  her  in  a  burst  of 
confidence  that  he  was  "  obliged  to  drink  much  ale, 
because  it  went  to  his  head  and  gave  him  commercial 
ideas." 

They  found  Dinan  a  charming  spot,  where  they 
stayed,  resting  and  frolicking,  from  April  I7th  to 
the  middle  of  June.  The  walks  and  drives  were 
picturesque,  the  views  from  the  pretty  house  where 
they  stopped  were  entrancing,  "  for  the  windows," 
Louisa  writes  in  one  of  her  home  letters,  "  overlook 
a  lovely  green  valley,  full  of  gardens,  blooming 
plum  and  peach  trees,  windmills,  and  a  ruined  castle, 
at  sight  of  which  we  all  skipped.  Madame  Coste 
received  us  with  rapture.  .  .  .  We  were  in  great 
luck,  for,  being  early  in  the  season,  she  had  three 
rooms  left,  and  we  nabbed  them  at  once — a  salon, 
with  old  oak  walls  and  wardrobes,  a  fireplace,  funny 
windows,  and  quaint  blue  damask  furniture.  A  lit- 
tle room  out  of  it  for  A.,  and  upstairs  a  large  room 
for  May  and  me,  with  two  beds  draped  in  green 
chintz,  and  a  carved  big  wardrobe,  and  so  forth, 
and  best  of  all,  a  sunny  window  toward  the  valley. 
For  these  rooms  and  our  board  we  each  pay  one 
dollar  a  day — and  I  call  that  cheap.  It  would  be 
worth  that  to  get  the  fun  and  air  alone,  for  it  is 
like  June,  and  we  sit  about  with  open  windows, 
flowers  in  the  fields,  and  birds  singing." 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  221 

Their  fellow-boarders  were  most  amusing,  and 
as  soon  as  they  began  to  stammer  in  French  they 
got  along  very  well.  The  simple  inhabitants  were 
great  fun  to  them,  and  Louisa  noticed  with  much 
interest  that  it  was  the  women  who  did  all  the  hard 
work. 

"  They  not  only  kept  house,  reared  children,  and 
knit  every  imaginable  garment  the  human  frame 
can  wear,  but  kept  the  shops  and  the  markets,  tilled 
the  gardens,  cleaned  the  streets,  and  bought  and 
sold  cattle,  leaving  the  men  free  to  enjoy  the  only 
pursuits  they  seemed  inclined  to  follow — breaking 
horses,  mending  roads,  and  getting  drunk.  ...  It 
took  two  deliberate  men  nearly  a  week  to  split  the 
gnarled  logs  [wood  for  Madame  Coste],  and  one 
brisk  woman  carried  them  into  the  cellar  and  piled 
them  neatly.  The  men  stopped  about  once  an  hour 
to  smoke,  drink  cider,  or  rest.  The  woman  worked 
steadily  from  morning  till  night,  only  pausing  at 
noon  for  a  bit  of  bread  and  the  soup  good  Coste 
sent  out  to  her.  .  .  .  This  same  capable  lady  used 
to  come  to  market  with  a  baby  on  one  arm,  a  basket 
of  fruit  on  the  other,  leading  a  pig,  driving  a  don- 
key, and  surrounded  by  sheep,  while  her  head  bore 
a  pannier  of  vegetables,  and  her  hands  spun  busily 
with  a  distaff.  How  she  ever  got  on  with  these 
trifling  encumbrances  was  a  mystery;  but  there  she 
was,  busy,  placid  and  smiling,  in  the  midst  of  the 
crowd,  and  at  night  went  home  with  her  shopping, 
well  content." 


222  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

During  those  early  weeks  Louisa  rested,  while 
the  others  did  the  exploring  and  had  funny  adven- 
tures; but  presently  the  mild  air,  the  out-of-door 
life,  and  beyond  all,  the  calm  and  quiet  of  this  beau- 
tiful foreign  country,  where  no  one  knew  she  was 
an  authoress,  and  many  had  never  even  heard  of 
"  Little  Women  " — all  these  happy  conditions  made 
her  feel  like  a  new  person,  and  she  was  soon  able  to 
join  in  the  fun  with  all  her  old-time  energy.  The 
simple  peasant  life  in  the  little  Breton  villages  gave 
her  much  pleasure,  and  the  three  spent  some  happy 
days  wandering  at  will,  over  the  lovely  surround- 
ings. There  were  many  things  to  attract  them ; 
beautiful  woods  full  of  alluring  paths,  ruined  castles, 
quaint  churches  and  chapels — all  choice  bits  for 
May's  artistic  appetite  to  feed  upon,  while  Louisa 
enjoyed  studying  these  new  scenes  and  new  people. 

The  donkeys  of  Dinan  interested  her  quite  as 
much  as  the  people,  and  in  "  Shawl  Straps  "  she 
gives  us  a  humorous  description  of  their  adventures 
with  these  small  animals.  When  they  took  don- 
key drives  she  tells  us :  "  The  cavalcade  on  such  oc- 
casions was  an  imposing  spectacle.  Matilda,  being 
fond  of  horses,  likewise  affected  donkeys  (or 
thought  she  did  till  she  tried  to  drive  one)  and  usu- 
ally went  first  in  a  small  vehicle  drawn  by  an  ani- 
mal who  looked  about  the  size  of  a  mouse,  when 
the  stately  Mat,  in  full  array,  yellow  parasol,  long 
whip,  camp  stool  and  sketchbook,  sat  bolt  upright 
on  her  perch,  driving  in  the  most  approved  manner. 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  223 

The  small  beast,  after  much  whipping,  would  break 
into  a  trot,  and  go  pattering  over  the  hard  white 
road,  with  his  long  ears  wagging,  and  his  tiny  hoofs 
raising  a  great  dust  for  the  benefit  of  the  other 
turn-out  just  behind. 

"  In  a  double  chair  sat  Lavinia,  bundled  up  as 
usual,  and  the  amiable  Amanda,  both  flushed  with 
constant  pokings  and  thrashings  of  their  steed.  A 
venerable  ass,  so  like  an  old  whity-brown  hair  trunk 
as  to  his  body,  and  Nick  Bottom's  mask  as  to  his 
head,  that  he  was  a  constant  source  of  mirth  to  the 
ladies.  Mild  and  venerable  as  he  looked,  however, 
he  was  a  most  incorrigible  beast,  and  it  took  two 
immortal  souls,  and  four  arms,  to  get  the  ancient 
donkey  along.  .  .  .  Matilda  got  on  better,  for 
little  Bernard  du  Guesclin,  as  she  named  her  mouse, 
was  so  very  small  that  she  could  take  him  up  and 
turn  him  round  bodily  when  other  means  failed,  or 
pull  him  half  into  the  chair  if  danger  threatened  in 
front.  He  was  a  sprightly  little  fellow,  and  had 
not  yet  lost  all  the  ardor  of  youth,  or  developed  the 
fiendish  obstinacy  of  his  kind;  so  he  frequently  ran 
little  races,  now  and  then  pranced,  and  was  not 
quite  dead  to  the  emotion  of  gratitude  for  bits  of 
bread. 

"  Truly,  yes ;  the  fair  Mat,  with  her  five  feet 
seven  inches,  and  little  Bernard,  whose  longest  ear 
when  most  erect  did  not  reach  much  above  her  waist, 
were  a  sweet  pair  of  friends,  and  caused  her  mates 
great  amusement. 


224  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

"  '  I  must  have  some  one  to  play  with,  for  I  can't 
improve  my  mind  all  the  time,  as  Mandy  does,  or 
cuddle  and  doze  like  Livy.  I've  had  experience 
with  young  donkeys  of  all  sorts,  and  I  give  you  my 
word  little  Bernie  is  much  better  fun  than  some  I've 
known  with  shorter  ears  and  fewer  legs.' 

"  Thus  Matilda,  regardless  of  the  jeers  of  her 
friends  when  they  proposed  having  the  small  beast 
into  the  salon  to  beguile  the  tedium  of  a  rainy  day." 

Louisa's  home  letters  from  Dinan  are  all  very 
delightful,  usually  to  the  family,  for  she  was  not 
well  enough  yet  to  do  regular  correspondence.  In 
a  postscript  to  a  letter  dated  May  30,  1870,  she 
writes : 

"  No  news  except  through  Niles,  who  yesterday 
sent  me  a  nice  letter  with  July  account  of  $6212,  a 
neat  little  sum  for  '  the  Alcotts,  who  can't  make 
money!'  With  $10,000  well  invested,  and  more 
coming  in  all  the  time,  I  think  we  may  venture  to 
enjoy  ourselves,  after  the  hard  times  we  have  all 
had.  The  cream  of  the  joke  is  that  we  made  our 
own  money  ourselves,  and  no  one  gave  us  a  blessed 
penny." 

Brittany  was  so  entrancing  that  they  would  have 
loved  to  stay  longer  in  this  happy  spot;  but  they 
had  limited  themselves  to  a  year  of  travel,  and  two 
months  was  all  they  could  spare  of  their  precious 
time.  It  was  a  pretty  journey  through  the  Breton 
country,  with  its  wealth  of  summer  foliage  and 
flowers.  They  went  from  Dinan  to  Geneva,  skim- 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  225 

ming  through  France  on  the  way,  stopping  at  St. 
Malo,  Le  Mans,  Tours,  Amboise,  and  Blois,  Or- 
leans, Nevers  and  Antrim. 

At  Tours  they  halted  for  several  days,  finding  it 
a  most  interesting  spot,  especially  the  cathedral. 

"  May  has  done  the  church  for  you,"  writes 
Louisa  to  her  father ;  "  and  I  send  the  photograph 
to  give  some  idea  of  it.  The  inside  is  very 
beautiful;  and  we  go  at  sunset  to  see  the  red  light 
make  the  gray  walls  lovely  outside,  and  the  shadows 
steal  from  chapel  to  chapel  inside,  filling  the  great 
church  with  what  is  really  'a  dim,  religious 
gloom.'  " 

At  Amboise  they  saw  the  castle  where  Charles 
VIII  was  born,  and  the  terrace  where  the  poor 
Huguenots  were  strung  up,  while  the  gay  court 
looked  on  and  enjoyed  the  sight;  also  the  little,  low 
door,  where  Anne  of  Brittany's  first  husband,  this 
very  Charles  VIII,  "  bumped  his  head  "  and  killed 
himself,  as  he  was  running  through  to  play  bowls 
with  his  wife.  It  was  in  this  same  castle  that  Mar- 
garet of  Anjou  and  her  son  were  reconciled  to  War- 
wick during  the  War  of  the  Roses. 

At  Blois  they  found  a  castle  full  of  historic  inter- 
est, and  records  of  the  dark  deeds  of  the  terrible 
Catherine  de  Medici  and  her  weak  son,  Henry  III. 

They  stopped  in  Orleans  for  a  day  to  get  some 
relics  of  Jeanne  D'Arc,  and  saw  the  famous  statue 
of  the  Maid,  put  up  in  gratitude  by  the  people  of 
the  city  she  saved. 


226  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Their  resting-place  was  Geneva.  "  We  are  at 
the  Metropole  Hotel,"  Louisa  writes,  "  right  on  the 
Lake,  with  a  glimpse  of  Mont  Blanc  from  our  win- 
dows." 

They  were  detained  in  Switzerland  by  the  Franco- 
Prussian  War,  which  interfered  with  their  letters 
home  and  made  traveling  rather  hard.  In  July, 
1870,  she  wrote  to  Anna : 

"  The  war  along  the  Rhine  is  sending  troops  of 
travelers  to  Switzerland  for  refuge ;  and  all  the  large 
towns  are  brimful  of  people  flying  from  Germany. 
It  won't  trouble  us,  for  we  have  done  France,  and 
don't  mean  to  do  Germany.  So  when  August  is 
over,  we  shall  trot  forward  to  Italy  and  find  a  warm 
place  for  our  winter  quarters.  At  any  time,  twenty- 
four  hours  carries  us  over  the  Simplon,  so  we  sit 
at  ease,  and  don't  care  a  straw  for  old  France  and 
Prussia.  Russia,  it  is  reported,  has  joined  in  the 
fight,  but  Italy  and  England  are  not  going  to  med- 
dle, so  we  can  fly  to  either  '  in  case  of  fire.'  " 

This  last  quoted  sentence,  Mrs.  Cheney  tells  us, 
was  "  a  family  joke,  as  Mrs.  Alcott  always  ended 
her  instructions  to  her  children  '  in  case  of  fire.'  " 
It  was,  indeed,  the  same  motherly  forethought  which 
prompted  Mrs.  March  to  call  out  of  the  window, 
as  Meg  and  Jo  went  to  the  party :  "  Girls — girls — 
have  you  clean  pocket-handkerchiefs  ?  "  And  many 
of  Mrs.  Alcott's  quaint  sayings  have  reappeared  in 
one  after  the  other  of  her  daughter's  stories. 

Dickens's  death  occurred  while  they  were  at  Bex, 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  227 

and  Louisa  mourned  most  sincerely,  though  she  says 
truthfully :  "  I  shall  miss  my  old  Charlie,  but  he  is 
not  the  old  idol  he  once  was."  It  was  about  this 
time  that  Mr.  Higginson  and  a  little  girl  friend 
put  together  the  "  Operatic  Tragedy  "  in  "  Little 
Women,"  and  set  the  songs  to  music  for  Our 
Young  Folks,  and  Miss  Alcott  herself,  even  in  her 
security  beyond  the  seas,  began  to  be  besieged  by 
eager  magazines  and  papers  for  contributions. 
Poor  Louisa  was  in  despair. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Niles,"  she  wrote  her  faithful  pub- 
lisher, "  I  keep  receiving  requests  from  editors  to 
write  for  their  papers  and  magazines.  I  am  truly 
grateful,  but  having  come  abroad  for  rest,  I  am  not 
inclined  to  try  the  treadmill  till  my  year's  vacation 
is  over;  so  to  appease  these  worthy  gentlemen  and 
excuse  my  seeming  idleness,  I  send  you  a  trifle  in 
rhyme,  which  you  can  (if  you  think  it  worth  the 
trouble)  set  going,  as  a  general  answer  to  every- 
body." 

The  clever  poem  of  thirty-one  verses  is  too  long 
to  quote  fully,  but  some  of  it  may  prove  most  amus- 
ing. Louisa  called  her  jingle — indeed  it  was  little 
more, — 

THE  LAY  OF  A  GOLDEN  GOOSE. 

Long  ago  in  a  poultry  yard, 

One  dull  November  morn, 
Beneath  a  motherly  soft  wing, 

A  little  goose  was  born. 


228  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Who  straightway  peeped  out  of  the  shell 
To  view  the  world  beyond, 

Longing  at  once  to  sally  forth, 
And  paddle  in  the  pond. 

"Oh!  be  not  rash,"  her  father  said, 

A  mild  Socratic  bird; 
Her  mother  begged  her  not  to  stray, 

With  many  a  warning  word. 

But  little  goosey  was  perverse 

And  eagerly  did  cry, 
"I've  got  a  lovely  pair  of  wings — 

Of  course  I  ought  to  fly." 

In  vain  parental  cacklings, 
In  vain  the  cold  sky's  frown, 

Ambitious  goosey  tried  to  soar, 
But  always  tumbled  down. 

Hard  times  she  had,  as  one  may  guess, 

That  young  aspiring  bird, 
Who  still  from  every  fall  arose, 

Saddened — but  undeterred. 

But  something  stronger  than  herself, 
Would  cry,  "Go  on — go  on! 

Remember,  though  an  humble  fowl, 
You're  cousin  to  a  swan." 

So  up  and  down  poor  goosey  went, 

A  busy  hopeful  bird, 
Searched  many  wide,  unfruitful  fields, 

And  many  waters  stirred. 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  229 

At  length  she  came  unto  a  stream, 

Most  fertile  of  all  Niks, 
Where  tuneful  birds  might  soar  and  sing 

Among  the  leafy  isles. 


Here  did  she  build  a  little  nest, 

Beside  the  waters  still, 
Where  the  parent  goose  could  rest, 

Unvexed  by  any  bill. 

And  here  she  paused  to  smooth  her  plumes, 

Ruffled  by  many  plagues, 
When  suddenly  arose  the  cry, 

"This  goose  lays  golden  eggs!" 

Miss  Alcott  devotes  several  verses  to  the  excite- 
ment in  the  poultry-yard  after  this  discovery.  All 
the  proud  and  haughty  fowls  begin  to  take  notice 
of  the  poor,  despised  goose,  a.nd  would  have  kept  her 
laying  new  eggs  all  the  time. 

But  best  of  all— the  little  fowls, 

Still  playing  on  the  shore, 
Soft  downy  chicks  and  goslings  gay, 

Chirped  out  "Dear  goose,  lay  more." 

But  goosey,  all  these  weary  years, 

Had  toiled  like  any  ant, 
And  wearied  out  she  now  replied, 

"My  little  dears,  I  can't." 


230  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

So  to  escape  too  many  friends 
Without  uncivil  strife, 

She  ran  to  the  Atlantic  pond, 
And  paddled  for  her  life. 


But  still  across  the  briny  deep, 

Couched  in  most  friendly  words, 
Came  prayers  for  letters,  tales  or  verse, 

From  literary  birds. 

Whereat  the  renovated  fowl, 

With  grateful  thanks  profuse, 
Took  from  her  wing  a  quill,  and  wrote 

This  Lay  of  a  Golden  Goose. 

This  was  written  at  Bex,  and  later  the  three 
travelers  went  to  Vevey,  a  spot  so  full  of  memories 
to  Louisa;  the  days  when  she  rowed  on  the  lake, 
walked,  or  drove  about  with  her  gallant  Polish  boy, 
all  came  vividly  back  to  her.  She  had  lost  sight  of 
him  for  a  while.  She  did  not  even  know  then,  as 
she  did  later,  that  he  was  still  alive,  and  there  were 
times  when  she  wandered  sadly  about  their  old 
haunts;  for  Louisa  despite  her  eight-and-thirty 
winters,  was  as  romantic  as  a  girl  about  her  many 
friendships. 

They  stayed  at  Vevey  until  September,  then  they 
took  a  wonderful  journey  through  the  heart  of  the 
Alps  into  Italy.  "  Crossing  the  Simplon  alone  was 
an  experience  worth  having,"  she  writes  to  her 
mother,  and  she  goes  on  with  a  brilliant  description 


"SHAWL  STRAPS."  231 

of  the  gorges,  the  snow-capped  mountain  peaks  ris- 
ing about  them,  all  bathed  in  the  moonlight.  In 
the  early  part  of  November,  refreshed  by  a  summer 
so  full  of  rest  and  beauty,  the  travelers  found  them- 
selves in  Rome.  May  immediately  planned  her 
winter's  work.  They  secured  a  pleasant  apartment 
of  six  rooms,  for  a  moderate  price,  and  set  up  house- 
keeping with  a  maid,  intending  to  be  very  happy  and 
comfortable  for  the  next  few  months.  The  trip  had 
thus  far  been  a  success.  Louisa  had  gone  away  a 
nervous  invalid;  in  Rome  she  hardly  knew  herself, 
her  strength  had  come  slowly  back  to  her,  and  she 
was  beginning  to  think  seriously  of  more  literary 
work.  Then,  with  a  sudden  shock,  came  the  news 
of  the  death  of  John  Pratt,  and  Louisa  realized  to 
the  full  what  a  void  the  absence  of  this  well-beloved 
brother  would  make  in  their  lives. 

This  blow  turned  her  thoughts  toward  home,  but 
they  took  shape  in  writing,  for  the  widowed  sister 
and  the  fatherless  nephews  must  never  be  allowed  a 
moment's  want.  So  her  grief,  as  usual,  found  solace 
in  the  work  she  loved,  and  the  result  was  a  book 
that  has  lived  for  many  generations  in  the  hearts  of 
boys  and  girls.  But  "  Little  Men  "  needs  a  chapter 
of  its  own. 


16 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE    BIRTH     OF    "  LITTLE    MEN." 

| HE  death  of  John  Pratt  was  the  second 
great  sorrow  in  Louisa's  life.  The  serene 
and  quiet  nature  of  the  man  had  won  its 
place  and  held  it  in  the  warm  hearts  of 
the  Alcott  family,  and  they  mourned  for  him  as  for 
one  of  their  very  own.  He  had  been  close  to  them 
in  their  first  trial ;  his  gentle  hands  had  helped  to 
carry  Beth  to  her  last  resting  place;  his  strong  arm, 
had  been  something  for  Anna  to  lean  upon  when  it 
all  had  seemed  so  hard  to  bear,  and  his  love  had 
been  like  the  warmth  of  the  sun.  His  sudden  death 
left  them  stunned,  but  Anna  was  the  true  daughter 
of  a  philosopher ;  she  gathered  her  two  precious  lit- 
tle boys  close  to  her  heart,  saying:  "  I  will  live  for 
them,  and  make  them  happy."  She  smiled  bravely 
through  her  tears,  and  made  her  grief  a  sacred 
memory,  which  stayed  with  her  always. 

John  Pratt  was  a  living  presence  in  his  household, 
and  Louisa  has  drawn  such  a  fine  portrait  of  him 
that  he  will  not  be  forgotten  by  others.  "  Now 
that  John  is  dead,"  she  writes  in  her  journal,  "  I 
can  truly  say  we  all  had  cause  to  bless  the  day  he 
232 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN."  233 

came  into  the  family,  for  we  gained  a  son  and 
brother,  and  Anna,  the  best  husband  ever  known. 
For  ten  years  he  made  her  home  a  little  heaven  of 
love  and  peace;  and  when  he  died,  he  left  her  the 
legacy  of  a  beautiful  life,  and  an  honest  name  to  his 
little  sons." 

John  Brooke  is  known  and  loved  by  every  reader 
of  "Little  Women,"  and  his  memory  is  revered 
and  honored  by  every  reader  of  "  Little  Men,"  for 
Louisa  wrote  the  book  far  away  in  Rome,  with  her 
heart  full  of  this  new  grief.  She  says  in  her  journal 
of  1871 : 

"  Began  to  write  a  new  book — '  Little  Men,'  that 
John's  death  may  not  leave  Anna  and  the  dear  little 
boys  in  want.  John  took  care  that  they  should 
have  enough  while  the  boys  are  young,  and  worked 
very  hard  to  have  a  little  sum  to  leave,  without  a 
debt  anywhere. 

"  In  writing  and  thinking  of  the  little  lads  to 
whom  I  must  be  a  father  now,  I  found  comfort  for 
my  sorrow." 

In  "  Little  Men  "  she  has  given  us  a  chapter  to 
the  memory  of  this  dearly  loved  brother,  a  beautiful 
chapter,  which  has  been  better  than  a  sermon  to 
many  boys.  It  is  here  that  Miss  Alcott's  great  gift 
lies,  she  wrote  of  what  lay  closest  to  her  heart.  That 
which  interested  her  keenly  as  a  girl,  she  knew 
would  interest  other  girls,  and  so  the  intimate  fam- 
ily life  of  the  Alcotts,  all  the  trials  and  the  strug- 
gles, all  the  joys,  the  sorrows,  the  successes  and 


234  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

disappointments,  were  frankly  told,  that  other 
struggling  girls  might  take  courage  and  go  for- 
ward. Their  varied  experiences,  often  humorous, 
sometimes  pathetic,  were  given  without  reserve, 
and  told  in  such  a  way  that  others  might  profit  by 
them.  So  in  the  character  of  John  Brooke  she  has 
paid  rich  tribute  to  John  Pratt. 

Speaking  of  his  death,  Mr.  Bhaer  tells  the  boys 
at  Plumfield :  "  He  was  ill  only  a  few  hours,  and 
died  as  he  had  lived,  so  cheerfully,  so  peacefully, 
that  it  seems  a  sin  to  mar  the  beauty  of  it  with  any 
violent  or  selfish  grief." 

There  is  a  touching  description  of  the  simple 
funeral : 

"  The  little  house  looked  as  quiet,  sunny,  and 
homelike  as  when  Meg  entered  it  a  bride,  ten  years 
ago,  only  then  it  was  early  summer,  and  roses 
bloomed  everywhere ;  now  it  was  early  autumn,  and 
dead  leaves  rustled  softly  down,  leaving  the 
branches  bare.  The  bride  was  a  widow  now;  but 
the  same  beautiful  serenity  shone  in  her  face,  and 
the  sweet  resignation  of  a  truly  pious  soul  made  her 
presence  a  consolation  to  those  who  came  to  com- 
fort her. 

".  .  .  One  would  have  said  that  modest  John 
Brooke,  in  his  busy,  quiet,  humble  life,  had  had  little 
time  to  make  friends ;  but  now  they  seemed  to  start 
up  everywhere;  old  and  young,  rich  and  poor,  high 
and  low ;  for,  all  unconsciously,  his  influence  had 
made  itself  widely  felt,  his  virtues  were  remem- 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN."  235 

bered,  and  his  hidden  charities  rose  up  to  bless 
him." 

Afterwards,  when  the  Plumfield  lads  were  talk- 
ing of  the  dead  man,  Jack,  the  commercial  one,  said : 

"  He  wasn't  rich,  was  he?  " 

"  No." 

"  He  never  did  anything  to  make  a  stir  in  the 
world,  did  he?" 

"  No." 

"  He  was  only  good  ?  " 

"  That's  all.  ..." 

"  Only  good.  That  is  all,  and  everything,"  said 
Mr.  Bhaer,  who  had  overheard  the  last  few  words, 
and  guessed  what  was  going  on  in  the  minds  of  the 
lads. 

And  then  Louisa  put  into  the  mouth  of  her  Pro- 
fessor all  the  love  and  admiration  so  beautiful  a 
life  had  called  forth. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  simple,  genuine  goodness  is 
the  best  capital  to  found  the  business  of  this  life 
upon.  It  lasts  when  fame  and  money  fail,  and  is 
the  only  riches  we  can  take  out  of  this  world  with 
us.  Remember  that,  my  boys,  and  if  you  want  to 
earn  respect  and  confidence  and  love,  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  John  Brooke." 

Just  as  Mr.  Bhaer  impressed  the  little  men  at 
Plumfield,  so  the  little  men  all  over  the  world  have 
taken  the  lesson  to  heart,  for  Louisa  Alcott  preached 
her  sermons  from  the  portals  of  her  own  home, 
which  she  flung  wide  that  all  might  enter. 


236  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Truly  "  Little  Men  "  was  a  labor  of  love.  She 
dedicated  the  book  to  her  nephews : 

To 

FREDDY    AND   JOHNNY, 

The  Little  Men 

To  whom  she  owes  some  of  the  best 
and     happiest    hours     of    her    life. 
This  book  is  gratefully  dedicated 
By  their  loving 

"  AUNT  WEEDY." 

They  are  big  men  now,  with  families  of  their 
own,  but  the  simple  dedication  no  doubt  is  of  more 
value  to  them  than  the  finest  poem. 

The  chapter  about  John  Brooke  is  the  only  sad 
and  sober  part  of  "  Little  Men."  There  is  always  a 
streak  of  earnestness  underlying  even  the  pranks 
and  plays  at  Plumfield,  but  from  the  time  poor 
ragged  Nat  entered  the  hospitable  gates,  we  begin 
to  feel  the  breeziness  and  fun,  that  contact  with 
boys  always  brought  out  in  Louisa  herself. 

We  meet  a  great  many  old  friends  at  the  Bhaer's 
school.  First  and  foremost,  Jo,  a  grown-up,  moth- 
erly Jo,  with  still  the  spirit  of  a  boy  behind  the 
"  bib  and  tucker,"  a  jolly,  lovable,  tender,  whole- 
some Jo,  living  her  girlhood  over  in  the  lives  of  the 
boys  and  girls  about  her.  There's  the  dear  old 
Professor,  too,  for  whom,  in  spite  of  our  disappoint- 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN."  237 

ment  over  Laurie,  we  begin  to  have  a  warm  affec- 
tion, and  his  two  nephews,  Franz  and  Emit. 

Daisy  and  Demi  have  walked  out  of  babyhood 
into  the  Plumfield  school,  and  their  characters  stand 
forth  well-defined,  for  Miss  Alcott  was  at  her  best 
when  she  had  a  living  subject  of  her  canvas.  The 
little  twins  are  really  her  two  nephews,  and  are  true 
portraits,  as  she  tells  us  herself.  Uncle  Laurie  and 
Aunt  Amy  are  the  fairy  god-parents,  whose  coming 
is  always  hailed  with  delight,  and  little  Goldilocks 
we  have  also  met  before,  while  in  the  background 
Aunt  Meg,  old  Mr.  Laurence,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
March  awake  fond  recollections  of  "  Little  Wom- 
en." Even  Nursey  Hummel  is  a  memory,  and  takes 
us  back  to  that  Christmas  day  when  the  March  girls 
gave  up  their  breakfast  to  the  poor,  starving 
German  family. 

There  are  many  new  faces,  foremost  among  them 
Tommy  Bangs,  Naughty  Nan,  and  Dan,  the  wild 
young  colt  of  a  boy,  with  a  spirit  easily  tamed  by 
love  and  kindness.  There  are  little  dashes  of  truth 
in  all  these  characters.  Naughty  Nan  was  Louisa 
herself  in  her  romping  little  girlhood,  and  many  of 
her  pranks  could  be  traced  back  to  the  very  heart 
of  the  Alcott  family.  Tommy  Bangs  was  a  dozen 
of  her  pet  boys  rolled  into  one;  but  Dan  was  the 
sort  of  boy  who  touched  her  most.  Sullen,  rough, 
hard  to  manage,  but  with  a  streak  of  gold  beneath 
all  the  grime  of  the  streets,  where  his  early  life 
had  been  spent. 


238  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Miss  Alcott  loved  this  Dan,  and  in  "  Jo's  Boys," 
the  last  long  story  she  gave  us,  we  find  a  grown-up 
Dan,  a  big,  lonely,  pathetic  figure  to  the  very  end 
where  he  dies  for  his  chosen  people. 

Because  she  was  interested,  the  writing  of  "  Lit- 
tle Men  "  went  quickly.  Indeed,  her  best  work  was 
always  done  "  in  a  vortex,"  as  she  expressed  it,  and 
before  she  had  left  Rome  the  story  was  safe  in 
America,  in  the  hands  of  her  publishers.  The  trav- 
eling party  finished  their  tour  as  they  had  planned. 
Louisa  enjoyed  Rome  in  her  own  way,  while  May 
went  on  with  her  art  studies,  learning,  as  she  her- 
self expressed  it,  "  how  little  she  knew,  and  how  to 
go  on." 

We  find  this  entry  in  her  journal :  "  Rome — great 
inundation.  Streets  flooded,  churches  with  four  feet 
of  water  in  them,  and  queer  times  for  those  who 
were  in  the  overflowed  quarters.  Meals  hoisted  up 
at  the  window,  people  carried  across  the  river-like 
streets  to  make  calls;  and  all  manner  of  funny 
doings.  We  were  high  and  dry  at  Piazza  Barbarini 
[the  name  of  their  home]  and  enjoyed  the  flurry. 

"  To  the  capital  often  to  spend  the  A.M.  with  the 
Roman  emperors  and  other  great  men.  Marcus 
Aurelius  as  a  boy  was  fine;  Cicero  looked  very  like 
Wendell  Phillips;  Agrippina  in  her  chair — was 
charming;  but  the  other  ladies,  with  hair  a  la 
sponge —  were  ugly;  Nero  &  Co.,  a  set  of  brutes 
and  bad  men.  But  a  better  sight  to  me  was  the 
crowd  of  poor  people  going  to  get  the  bread  and 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN."  239 

money  sent  by  the  king;  and  the  splendid  snow- 
covered  hills  were  finer  than  the  marble  beauty  in- 
side. Art  tires,  Nature  never." 

In  the  early  days  of  struggle  and  poverty,  poor 
Louisa  had  to  pull  down  her  castles  in  the  air,  story 
by  story ;  now,  with  money  coming  in  from  a  dozen 
different  sources,  she  found  she  could  enlarge  her 
plans,  and  as  she  had  just  received  the  goodly  sum 
of  seven  hundred  dollars  from  "  Moods,"  and  was 
expecting  many  thousands  from  the  sale  of  "  Little 
Men,"  she  decided  to  leave  May  abroad  for  another 
year,  free  from  care,  and  able  to  devote  herself  to 
her  beloved  art. 

So  they  picked  up  their  belongings  and  spent  the 
month  of  March  at  Albano,  a  lovely  spot,  where 
Louisa  could  walk  and  write  and  rest,  and  enjoy 
the  adventures  of  the  two  girls,  which  she  describes 
in  "  Shawl  Straps  "  in  her  own  quaint  way. 

They  had  attracted  the  attention  of  some  romantic 
looking  cavalry  officers,  and  Louisa,  greatly  amused, 
was  forced,  nevertheless,  to  play  the  stern  chape- 
ron. As  Lavinia,  she  takes  the  elderly  tone  of 
the  stern  chaperon. 

"  I'm  going  to  Venice  next  week,"  she  says,  "  so 
you  may  as  well  make  up  your  minds  to  it,  girls. 
...  I  should  never  dare  to  go  home  and  say  that 
Mat  had  run  away  with  a  man  as  handsome  as  Jove 
and  as  poor  as  Job.  Amanda's  indignant  relatives 
would  rise  up  and  stone  me  if  I  let  her  canter  into 
matrimony  with  the  fascinating  Colonel.  .  .  .  They 


240  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

must  be  torn  away  at  once,  or  my  character  as 
duenna  is  lost  forever." 

In  April,  they  enjoyed  two  ideal  weeks  "  floating 
about  "  in  Venice,  and  May  found  them  in  London, 
where  they  took  pleasant  lodgings  and  went  sight- 
seeing. Their  friend  and  traveling  companion  sailed 
for  America  on  the  eleventh,  and  Miss  Alcott  de- 
cided to  go  on  the  twenty-fifth,  as  she  was  needed 
at  home.  "  Little  Men  "  was  published  in  London 
before  she  left. 

Altogether  the  year  of  travel  had  been  successful 
and  pleasant.  Louisa  had  enjoyed  the  freedom  from 
small  cares  and  the  delightful  society  in  which  they 
found  themselves,  for  the  author  of  "  Little  Wom- 
en "  had  a  warm  welcome  everywhere.  The  two 
younger  girls  were  made  much  of  and  petted,  and 
May's  talent  brought  her  into  close  association  with 
the  foremost  painters  and  sculptors  of  the  day. 
John  Ruskin  was  much  interested  in  her  copies  of 
the  great  Turner  masterpieces,  and  warmly  praised 
her  color  and  style. 

But  in  spite  of  all  these  attractions,  Louisa's 
health  was  much  the  same;  pain  haunted  her  days, 
sleeplessness  troubled  her  nights;  her  naturally 
lively  disposition  and  hopeful  spirit  kept  her  going, 
and  perhaps  it  was  as  well  that  she  could  forget  her 
aches  in  the  distraction  of  new  scenes.  She  had  a 
most  unpleasant  voyage  home.  Smallpox  broke 
out  on  board,  and  her  cabin  companion  was  struck 
down. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN."  241 

"  I  escaped,"  she  writes  in  her  journal,  "  but  had 
a  sober  time  lying  next  door  to  her,  waiting  to  see 
if  my  turn  was  to  come." 

It  took  her  twelve  days  to  get  home,  and  her 
father  and  Mr.  Niles  were  on  hand  to  meet  her,  with 
a  great  red  placard  announcing  the  publication  of 
"  Little  Men  "  pinned  up  in  the  carriage,  and  the 
joyful  tidings  that  fifty  thousand  of  the  books  had 
been  sold  before  it  was  out. 

The  book  was  certainly  very  popular,  for  every 
reader  of  "  Little  Women  "  must,  of  course,  have 
"  Little  Men,"  and  besides — there  was  a  certain 
type  of  "  small  boy  "  who  had  probably  never  read 
"  Little  Women,"  boys  of  her  nephews'  age,  or  per- 
haps a  little  older.  It  was  a  story  calculated  to 
please  all  sizes  and  ages.  There  were  chapters  for 
the  quiet  ones,  the  studious  ones,  the  gay  ones  and 
the  sober  ones.  In  the  chapter  called  "  Pranks  and 
Plays  "  Mrs.  Jo,  herself,  says : 

"  I  beg  leave  to  assure  my  honored  readers  that 
most  of  the  incidents  are  taken  from  real  life,  and 
that  the  oddest  are  the  truest;  for  no  person,  no 
matter  how  vivid  an  imagination  he  may  have,  can 
invent  anything  half  so  droll  as  the  freaks  and 
fancies  that  originate  in  the  lively  brains  of  little 
people." 

The  "  Kitty-mouse  and  the  '  sackerryfice'  "  was 
famous  among  the  Alcott  girls  and  their  friends, 
and  "  Brops  "  was  another  absorbing  play.  "  The 
Brops,"  Miss  Alcott  tells  us,  "  is  a  winged  quad- 


242  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

ruped  with  a  human  face  of  a  youthful  and  merry 
aspect.  When  it  walks  the  earth  it  grunts,  when 
it  soars  it  gives  a  shrill  hoot;  occasionally  it  goes 
erect,  and  talks  good  English.  Its  body  is  usually 
covered  with  a  substance  much  resembling  a  shawl, 
sometimes  red,  sometimes  blue,  often  plaid,  and 
strange  to  say — they  frequently  change  skins  with 
one  another.  On  their  heads  they  have  a  horn  very 
like  a  stiff  brown-paper  lamplighter.  Wings  of  the 
same  substance  flap  from  their  shoulders  when  they 
fly ;  this  is  never  very  far  from  the  ground,  as  they 
usually  fall  with  violence  if  they  attempt  any  lofty 
flights.  They  browse  over  the  earth,  but  can  sit 
up  and  eat  like  the  squirrel.  Their  favorite  nourish- 
ment is  the  seed  cake;  apples  also  are  freely  taken, 
and  sometimes  raw  carrots  are  nibbled  when  food 
is  scarce.  They  live  in  dens,  where  they  have  a  sort 
of  nest,  much  like  a  clothes-basket,  in  which  the 
little  Brops  play  till  their  wings  are  grown. 
These  singular  animals  quarrel  at  times,  and  it  is 
on  these  occasions  that  they  burst  into  human 
speech,  call  each  other  names,  cry,  scold,  and  some- 
times tear  off  horns  and  skin,  declaring  fiercely  that 
they  '  won't  play.'  ..." 

This  game  was  a  great  favorite,  and  the  younger 
children  beguiled  many  a  rainy  afternoon  flapping 
or  creeping  about  the  nursery,  acting  like  little  bed- 
lamites, and  being  as  merry  as  little  grigs.  To  be 
sure  it  was  rather  hard  upon  clothes,  particularly 
trouser  knees  and  jacket  elbows;  but  Mrs.  Bhaer 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN." 


243 


only  said,  as  she  patched  and  darned — she  was  al- 
ways patching  and  darning — good  Mother  Bhaer. 

"  We  do  things  just  as  foolish  and  not  half  so 
harmless.  If  I  could  get  as  much  happiness  out  of 
it  as  the  little  dears  do,  I'd  be  a  Brop  myself." 

There  is  something  very  sweet  and  true  in  the 
book,  though  you  cannot  lay  your  hand  on  the 
thread  of  a  story,  yet  each  chapter  has  its  special 
center  of  interest,  and  with  the  exception  of  "  Lit- 
tle Women,"  it  is  the  most  popular  of  Miss  Alcott's 
books.  It  is  nearly  forty  years  since  the  birth  of 
"  Little  Men,"  and  many  of  the  little  men  who  read 
it  then  have  grown  sons  now  who  read  it  in  their 
turn,  and  many  of  a  later  generation  are  reading 
it,  indeed,  in  the  same  dilapidated  volumes  that  their 
fathers  pored  over,  with  the  same  thumb  marks,  the 
same  dog-eared  pages,  the  same  favorite,  much- 
worn  spots. 

But  the  children  of  to-day  have  the  advantage 
over  the  earlier  readers,  for  those  first  publica- 
tions were  unattractive  little  volumes,  with  the  most 
ridiculous  pictures.  Those  pictures  were  bitter  pills 
to  poor  Louisa,  who  had  artistic  ideas,  even  though 
no  artist  herself,  but  as  they  made  no  difference 
in  the  sale  of  the  book,  she  put  up  with  them, 
though  she  wailed  to  her  publishers.  It  was  many 
years  later  before  a  real  artist,  with  some  under- 
standing of  children,  came  to  her  help.  This  was 
Mary  Halleck  Foote,  whose  fine  drawings  are  no 
less  famous  than  her  beautiful  stories. 


244  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

In  1877,  six  years  after  the  publication  of  "  Lit- 
tle Men,"  Louisa  wrote  to  Mrs.  Dodge  of  St. 
Nicholas,  about  "  Under  the  Lilacs/'  which  she  was 
writing  as  a  serial  for  that  magazine : 

"  I  will  send  you  the  first  few  chapters  during  the 
week,  for  Mrs.  Foote  [for  illustration],  and  with 
them  the  schedule  you  suggest,  so  that  my  infants 
may  not  be  drawn  with  whiskers,  and  my  big  boys 
and  girls  in  pinafores,  as  in  '  Eight  Cousins.'  I 
hope  the  new  baby  won't  be  set  aside  too  soon  for 
my  illustrations,  but  I  do  feel  a  natural  wish  to  have 
one  story  prettily  adorned  with  good  pictures,  as, 
hitherto,  artists  have  much  afflicted  me.  ...  I  shall 
expect  the  small  tots  to  be  unusually  good,  since  the 
artist  has  a  live  model  to  study  from.  Please  pre- 
sent my  congratulations  to  the  happy  mamma  and 
Mr.  Foote,  Jr.  Yours  warmly, 

"  L.  M.  A." 

This  was  part  of  a  letter  written  from  Concord 
on  June  3d,  and  the  summer  heat  of  the  good  little 
town  was  often  unendurable. 

But  as  years  went  on,  publishers  began  to  think 
a  little  about  the  "  make  up  "  of  a  book,  so  that 
pretty  covers  and  interesting  pictures  might  count 
for  something,  and  the  more  recent  editions  of  Miss 
Alcott's  books  show  a  great  improvement,  in  which 
no  one  would  have  rejoiced  more  sincerely  than  the 
author  herself.  "  Little  Men "  in  particular  has 
passed  through  the  hands  of  Reginald  Birch,  who 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN."  245 

has  adorned  it  with  a  host  of  pretty,  chubby  chil- 
dren, black-stockinged  little  boys  and  girls,  and 
even  the  heavy-browed  "  rough-and-tumble  "  Dan 
has  lost  his  terrors ;  many  "  old-timers  "  regret  this, 
for  he  was  a  most  delightful  and  blood-curdling  vil- 
lain according  to  the  other  pictures. 

Louisa  found  that  her  fame  had  only  slumbered 
during  the  year  of  travel.  The  new  book  made  her 
more  sought  after  than  ever,  and  it  took  all  her 
cleverness  to  dodge  the  people  who  would  make  a 
"  lioness  "  of  her. 

She  found  her  mother  very  feeble  and  much  aged 
by  this  last  trouble.  Though  she  had  made  no  com- 
plaint, she  had  sadly  missed  her  two  daughters,  and 
Louisa  determined  never  to  go  far  away  from  her 
again. 

"  Nan — well  and  calm,"  she  writes  in  her  journal, 
"  but  under  her  sweet  serenity  is  a  very  sad  soul, 
and  she  mourns  for  her  mate  like  a  tender  turtle- 
dove. 

"  The  boys  are  tall,  bright  lads,  devoted  to  Mar- 
mee,  and  the  life  of  the  house.  .  .  .  Much  company 
and  loads  of  letters,  all  full  of  good  wishes  and 
welcome.  .  .  . 

"  A  happy  month,  for  I  felt  well  for  the  first  time 
in  two  years.  I  knew  it  wouldn't  last,  but  enjoyed 
it  heartily  while  it  did,  and  was  grateful  for  rest 
from  pain  and  a  touch  of  the  old  cheerfulness.  It 
was  much  needed  at  home." 

But  July,  August,   and   September  were  trying 


246  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

months,  with  too  much  company  and  care,  and  the 
death  of  her  favorite  uncle,  Dr.  S.  J.  May,  helped 
to  upset  the  poor  nerves  again.  In  October  she 
went  to  Boston,  for,  from  the  time  her  health  began 
to  fail,  Concord  never  agreed  with  her. 

It  was  nearly  ten  years  since  Louisa,  a  hearty, 
healthy,  energetic  young  woman,  had  set  bravely 
forth,  to  serve  her  country  at  the  hospital ;  and  since 
that  time  she  had  never  drawn  a  well  breath,  though 
she  had  fought  for  health  as  bravely  as  any  soldier 
for  freedom. 

She  would  not  give  up — that  was  the  trouble. 
Deprived  of  bodily  strength,  that  active,  vigorous 
mind  of  hers  worked  harder  than  ever,  and  this  was 
bad  for  her  though  she  did  not  recognize  it  then. 
She  was  always  "  keyed  up  "  to  some  great  effort ; 
her  family  looked  to  her  as  their  mainstay;  the  pub- 
lic demanded  story  after  story;  the  children  in  par- 
ticular were  never  satisfied,  and  the  luxury  of  a 
private  secretary  and  a  typewriter  was  not  dreamed 
of  in  those  days.  She  not  only  thought  out  her 
stories,  but  she  wrote  them  out,  until  the  pen  some- 
times dropped  from  the  cramped  fingers.  Poor 
Louisa !  when  she  had  health  and  strength,  she  had 
nothing  else  but  hope.  Now  she  had  everything  but 
health  and  strength,  even  hope  would  not  be 
quenched,  though  the  tired  nerves  nearly  gave  up 
hoping  sometimes.  Then  would  come  a  bright, 
grateful  letter  from  some  jolly  girl  or  boy,  which 
pleased  her  more  than  all  the  calls  and  requests 


THE  BIRTH  OP  "LITTLE  MEN."  247 

for  autographs,  and  she  would  think  the  pain  and 
trouble  worth  while,  if  they  brought  her  such  re- 
wards. 

"  Little  Men  "  proved  a  great  lump  of  added 
prosperity.  The  first  thing  she  did  was  to  set  aside 
a  sum  for  Anna  and  the  boys,  to  be  invested  in  a 
home  later  on.  Then  she  planned  comforts  for  the 
old  house  in  Concord,  while  she  "  rested  up  "  in 
Boston,  enjoying  people,  pictures,  plays,  reading  all 
she  could,  and  trying  to  forget  the  aching  bones. 

In  November,  she  writes  in  her  journal :  "  May 
sent  pleasant  letters  and  some  fine  copies  of  Turner. 
She  decides  to  come  home  as  she  feels  she  is  needed, 
as  I  give  out.  Marmee  is  feeble,  Nan  has  her  boys 
and  her  sorrow,  and  one  strong  head  and  hand  is 
wanted  at  home.  A  year  and  a  half  of  holiday  is 
a  good  deal,  and  duty  comes  first  always.  Sorry  to 
call  her  back,  but  her  eyes  are  troublesome,  and 
housework  will  rest  them  and  set  her  up.  Then 
she  can  go  again  when  I  am  better,  for  I  don't  want 
her  to  be  thwarted  in  her  work  more  than  just 
enough  to  make  her  want  it  very  much." 

She  came  back  to  them  like  a  streak  of  sunlight, 
bringing  new  life  into  the  quiet  house.  There  was 
something  radiant  about  May  Alcott,  which  was  her 
peculiar  charm.  Unlike  Louisa,  she  never  lost  a 
certain  air  of  youth,  which  shone  in  her  fair  face 
and  golden  hair,  her  vivacity,  and  her  light  springi- 
ness of  motion.  She  was  a  girl  always,  and  her 
sister  took  great  pride  in  her  and  her  beautiful  work. 
17 


248  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

In  December,  she  writes,  evidently  from  Boston: 
"  Enjoyed  my  quiet,  sunny  room  very  much,  and 
this  lazy  life  seems  to  suit  me,  for  I  am  better,  mind 
and  body.  All  goes  well  at  home,  with  May  to  run 
the  machine  in  her  cheery,  energetic  style,  and 
amuse  Marmee  and  Nan  with  gay  histories.  Had 
a  furnace  put  in,  and  all  enjoyed  the  new  climate. 
No  more  rheumatic  fevers  and  colds,  with  pictur- 
esque open  fires.  Mother  is  to  be  cozy  if  money 
can  do  it.  She  seems  to  be  now,  and  my  long-cher- 
ished dream  has  come  true;  for  she  sits  in  a  pleas- 
ant room,  with  no  work,  no  care,  no  poverty  to 
worry,  but  peace  and  comfort  all  about  her,  and 
children,  glad  and  able  to  stand  between  trouble 
and  her.  Thank  the  Lord!  I  like  to  stop  and  re- 
member my  mercies.  Working  and  waiting  for 
them  makes  them  very  welcome." 

Indeed,  if  the  early  life  of  hardship  and  privation 
had  not  told  upon  her,  "  Marmee  "  would  have  been 
blessed  above  most  women.  She  had  surely  earned 
her  reward,  and  seventy  years  is  really  but  the  be- 
ginning of  old  age,  but  like  Louisa,  her  energy  had 
far  outrun  her  strength,  and  she  was  a  feeble  old 
lady  long  before  her  time. 

This  holiday  season  was  bravely  kept  up  by  the 
Alcotts;  grief  was  never  nursed  and  fostered  among 
them,  and  so  Louisa  tells  us  of  "  a  merry  Christmas 
at  home,  with  a  tree  for  the  boys,  a  family  dinner, 
and  frolic  in  the  evening." 

There  were  hosts  of  young  cousins  from  Boston 


THE  BIRTH  OF  "LITTLE  MEN."  249 

who  were  continually  dropping  in  upon  them ;  there 
was  coasting,  and  skating  on  the  frozen  Concord 
River ;  there  were  tramps  in  the  keen  winter  air,  led 
by  energetic  May,  while  Louisa,  from  her  home 
nest,  sighed  longingly  for  the  fun.  She  knew  every 
rivulet,  every  frozen,  winding  path  through  the  Con- 
cord woods,  and  many  a  time,  I  fear,  she  cast  pru- 
dence to  the  winds  and  went  with  the  others ;  but  of 
this  there  is  no  record.  However,  when  they  frol- 
icked at  night,  she  it  was  who  planned  the  games, 
arranged  charades,  and  gave  them  convulsing  char- 
acter sketches,  sparing  not  even  the  grave  philoso- 
phers, who  enjoyed  it  all  as  much  as  the  youngest 
revelers. 

"  A  varied,  but  on  the  whole,  a  good  year,  in 
spite  of  pain,"  she  writes.  "  Last  Christmas  we 
were  in  Rome,  mourning  for  John.  What  will  next 
Christmas  bring  forth?  I  have  no  ambition  now 
but  to  keep  the  family  comfortable  and  not  ache  any 
more.  Pain  has  taught  me  patience,  I  hope — if 
nothing  else." 

January,  1872,  came  in  laden  with  royalties,  for 
"Little  Women"  and  "Little  Men"  alone  were 
coining  money,  and  old-fashioned  Polly  was  close 
behind  in  popularity.  "  More,  more,  more !  "  cried 
the  greedy  public.  "  More,  more,  more !  "  echoed 
the  greedier  children,  and  Louisa,  who  always  lis- 
tened to  her  children,  wrung  her  hands  and  wished 
she  had  stayed  abroad  another  year.  Her  admirers 
still  haunted  her,  and  one  infatuated  unknown  being 


250  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

began  to  send  her  daily  offerings  of  lovely  flowers, 
which  flavor  of  romance  and  mystery  she  greatly 
enjoyed. 

During  February  and  March,  she  wrote  "  Shawl 
Straps,"  which  was  first  published  in  the  Christian 
Union,  and  during  April  and  May  she  writes : 

"  Wrote  another  sketch  for  the  Independent,  '  A 
French  Wedding,'  and  the  events  of  my  travels  paid 
my  expenses.  All  is  fish  that  comes  to  the  literary 
net.  Goethe  put  his  joys  and  sorrows  into  poems; 
I  turn  my  adventures  into  bread  and  butter. 

"June,  1872.  Home — and  begin  a  new  task. 
Twenty  years  ago  I  resolved  to  make  the  family 
independent,  if  I  could.  At  forty  [not  quite,  Louisa, 
if  you  are  accurate]  that  is  done.  Debts  are  paid 
.  .  .  and  we  have  enough  to  be  comfortable.  It  has 
cost  me  my  health,  perhaps,  but  as  I  still  live,  there 
is  more  for  me  to  do,  I  suppose." 

And  so  there  was,  hundreds  of  stories  to  be  writ- 
ten, many  sweet  little  heroes  and  heroines  to  go  into 
a  big  world  of  readers  and  hold  lasting  places  in 
their  hearts,  struggling  fellow-workers  to  be  helped 
by  word  and  deed,  a  thousand  unnamed  kindnesses 
to  be  scattered  broadcast,  without  thought  of  thanks 
or  reward.  A  sister  she  was  to  all  struggling  girls 
and  boys,  the  ruling  spirit  of  her  home,  a  strong 
prop  for  Anna  in  her  loneliness,  and  a  real  father, 
as  she  promised  to  be,  to  her  "  little  men." 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PROGRESS    AND    PROSPERITY. 

[AD  Louisa  been  willing  to  supply  the 
demand  for  books  and  stories,  she  would 
have  found  it  simply  impossible,  for 
there  was  scarcely  an  editor  or  a  pub- 
lisher who  would  not  have  paid  a  great  deal  for 
anything  she  wrote.  Had  she  lived  in  these  days 
she  could  have  kept  several  secretaries  and  type- 
writers busily  employed,  while  she  went  from  one 
to  the  other  dashing  off  her  stories.  But  she  was 
too  independent  for  that  sort  of  thing.  We  must 
bear  in  mind  that  the  Goose  she  mentions  in  her 
poem  not  only  laid  the  golden  eggs,  but  hatched 
them ;  and  so  with  Louisa  during  the  next  six  years, 
she  not  only  planned  her  stories,  but  she  prepared 
them  for  publication,  and  in  the  case  of  "  Work  " 
she  wrote  three  pages  at  once  on  impression  paper 
— one  for  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  who  had  ordered 
the  story  as  a  serial  for  the  Christian  Union;  one 
for  Roberts  Brothers,  who  were  waiting  to  publish 
it  in  book  form,  and  the  third  for  Low  &  Com- 
pany of  London,  for  her  books  were  now  in  great 
demand  in  England.  From  this  exploit  she  had 
251 


252  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

paralysis  of  her  thumb,  from  which  she  never  re- 
covered. 

"  Work  "  was  a  story  with  a  history.  When  Mr. 
Beecher  asked  for  a  serial,  Louisa  remembered  a 
tale  she  had  commenced  years  ago  and  had  named 
"  Success."  She  had  put  it  aside  and  forgotten  it 
in  the  hurry  of  other  matters,  but  now  she  took  it 
from  its  pigeonhole  and  considered  it  seriously. 
Christie  Devon  was  good  material  to  build  upon. 
Through  this  heroine  she  could  tell  much  of  her 
own  life  and  struggles,  and  as  the  Christian  Union 
offered  her  three  thousand  dollars  for  the  com- 
pleted manuscript,  advancing  a  thousand  dollars 
as  a  seal  to  the  bargain,  she  could  not  resist.  She 
says  in  her  journal : 

"  Fired  up  the  engine  and  plunged  into  a  vortex, 
with  many  doubts  about  getting  out.  Can't  work 
slowly;  the  thing  possesses  me,  and  I  must  obey  till 
it's  done,  ...  so  I  was  bound,  and  sat  at  the  oar 
like  a  galley  slave." 

May  took  charge  of  things  at  home  during  the 
summer  and  fall  of  1872,  making  a  charming  hos- 
tess to  the  innumerable  guests  who  invaded  Orchard 
House,  while  the  hunted  authoress  "  flew  around 
behind  the  scenes  or  skipped  out  of  the  back  win- 
dow when  ordered  out  for  inspection  by  the  inquisi- 
tive public.  .  .  . 

"  Reporters  sit  on  the  wall  and  take  notes,  ar- 
tists sketch  me  as  I  pick  pears  in  the  garden,  and 
strange  women  interview  Johnny  as  he  plays  in  the 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  253 

orchard.  It  looks  like  impertinent  curiosity  to  me, 
but  it  is  called  '  fame  '  and  considered  a  blessing  to 
be  grateful  for,  I  find.  Let  'em  try  it." 

Again  her  trials  as  an  authoress  were  vividly  de- 
scribed by  a  few  clever  rhymes  which  she  wrote  at 
this  time  on  the  subject  of  fame: 

There  is  a  town  of  high  repute, 

Where  saints  and  sages  dwell, 
Who  in  these  latter  days  are  forced 

To  bid  sweet  peace  farewell. 
For  all  their  men  are  demigods, 

So  rumor  doth  declare, 
And  all  the  women  are  De  Staels, 

And  genius  fills  the  air. 

So  eager  pilgrims  penetrate 

To  their  most  private  nooks, 
Storm  their  back  doors  in  search  of  news, 

And  interview  their  cooks. 
Worship  at  ev'ry  victim's  shrine, 

See  halos  round  their  hats, 
Embalm  the  chickweed  from  their  yards, 

And  photograph  their  cats. 

Alas!  what  can  the  poor  souls  do? 

Their  homes  are  homes  no  more, 
No  washing-day  is  sacred  now, 

Spring  cleaning's  never  o'er. 
Their  doorsteps  are  the  strangers'  camp, 

Their  trees  bear  many  a  name, 
Artists  their  very  nightcaps  sketch, 

And  this— and  this,  is  fame! 


254  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

"  September.  To  Walcott  with  Father  and  Fred. 
A  quaint,  lovely  old  place  is  the  little  house  on 
Spindle  Hill,  where  the  boy  Amos  dreamed  the 
dreams  that  have  come  true  at  last.  Got  hints  for 
my  novel,  '  The  Cost  of  an  Idea ' — if  I  ever  have 
time  to  write  it. 

"  Don't  wronder  the  boy  longed  to  climb  those 
hills  and  see  what  lay  beyond." 

She  never  did  write  the  novel,  but  after  a  glimpse 
of  those  "  everlasting  hills  "  and  the  old  home,  the 
simple  story  of  her  father's  boyhood  took  root  in 
her  mind,  and  "  Eli's  Education  "  was  the  result,  a 
warm  and  loving  memory  of  the  studious  country 
lad,  whose  ideals  in  early  youth  were  no  more  beau- 
tiful or  fair  than  those  of  the  white-haired  scholar, 
who  still  looked  upward  toward  them. 

In  October,  Miss  Alcott  went  to  Boston.  "  I  can't 
work  at  home,"  she  says,  "  and  need  to  be  alone  to 
spin  like  a  spider.  Rested ;  walked ;  to  the  theater 
now  and  then.  Home  once  a  week  with  books,  etc., 
for  Marmee  and  Nan.  Prepared  '  Shawl  Straps ' 
for  Roberts." 

"November.  Forty — on  the  29th.  Got  Father 
off  for  the  West,  all  neat  and  comfortable.  I  en- 
joyed every  penny  spent,  and  had  a  happy  time 
packing  his  new  trunk  with  warm  flannels,  neat 
shirts,  gloves,  etc.,  and  seeing  the  dear  man  go  off 
in  a  new  suit,  overcoat,  hat,  and  all,  like  a  gentle- 
man. We  both  laughed  over  the  pathetic  old  times, 
with  tears  in  our  eyes,  and  I  reminded  him  of  the 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  255 

'  poor  as  poverty,  but  serene  as  heaven  '  saying." 
It  was  after  her  father's  departure  that  she  began 
"  Work."  Christie  was  an  old  friend,  but  the  rough 
copy  of  bygone  days  was  not  to  be  considered,  so 
she  began  at  the  beginning,  "  pulling  down  and 
building  up  "  as  fast  as  she  could.  The  old  reck- 
less speed  of  fourteen  hours  a  day  could  not  be 
thought  of  now.  Louisa  was  obliged  to  be  prudent, 
she  dared  not  let  the  "  vortex  "  get  the  better  of 
her;  sleep  and  exercise  were  necessary,  and  regular 
meals  a  rule  in  the  game;  consequently  the  story 
went  forward  at  a  slower  pace.  She  writes  in  her 
journal,  January,  1873 : 

"  Getting  on  well  with  '  Work ' ;  have  to  go 
slowly  for  fear  of  a  breakdown.  .  .  .  Roberts 
Brothers  paid  me  over  two  thousand  dollars  for 
books.  S.  E.  S.  invested  most  of  it  with  the  thou- 
sand F.  sent.  Gave  C.  M.  a  hundred  dollars,  a 
thank  offering  for  my  success.  I  like  to  help  the 
class  of  '  silent  poor '  to  which  we  belonged  for  so 
many  years — needy,  but  respectable,  and  forgotten 
because  too  proud  to  beg.  Work  difficult  to 
find  for  such  people,  and  life  made  very  hard 
for  want  of  a  little  money  to  ease  the  necessary 
needs." 

In  February,  came  an  interruption  in  the  shape  of 
Anna's  serious  illness ;  she  had  pneumonia  and  came 
so  very  near  dying  that  Mr.  Alcott  was  sent  for  by 
the  frightened  family. 

"  She  gave  me  the  boys,"  writes  Louisa,  "  but 


256  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

the  dear  saint  got  well,  and  kept  the  lads  for  herself. 
Thank  God!  Back  to  my  work  with  what  wits 
nursing  left  me. 

"  Had  Johnny  for  a  week  to  keep  all  quiet  at 
home.  Enjoyed  the  sweet  little  soul  very  much  and 
sent  him  back  much  better." 

Children  were  a  delight  to  Louisa,  and  her  small 
nephews  were  a  constant  pleasure.  She  "  moth- 
ered "  them  quite  as  well  as  Anna  herself,  and  no 
doubt  Johnny's  visit  did  her  as  much  good  as  it 
did  him. 

She  finished  "  Work  "  by  the  end  of  March,  hav- 
ing started  in  November.  "  Not  quite  what  it 
should  be,"  she  says ;  "  too  many  interruptions. 
Should  like  to  do  one  book  in  peace,  and  see  if  it 
wouldn't  be  good." 

It  pleased  her  readers,  however.  "  Work  "  has 
always  been  a  popular  book,  though  much  older  in 
style  than  its  predecessors.  Had  it  been  published 
before  "  Little  Women,"  it  certainly  would  not  have 
pushed  its  author  to  the  front,  but  coming  as  it  did, 
in  answer  to  the  public  demand,  it  was  eagerly  read, 
and  many  recognized  at  once  how  true  to  her  own 
life  and  work  was  the  character  of  Christie  Devon ; 
strong  of  purpose,  fearless  in  her  determination  to 
go  forth  and  win  for  herself  a  place  in  the  world. 
She  shows  Christie  as  she  would  have  been,  with 
no  kith  nor  kin  to  shelter  her  when  the  battle  turned 
against  her.  In  many  places  the  book  is  over- 
serious,  and  some  of  her  younger  readers  criticised 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  257 

freely.  The  suicide  of  poor,  crazy  Helen  Campbell 
disturbed  them  greatly,  and  Miss  Alcott  answered 
one  of  these  plaintive  wails: 

"  I  did  not  like  the  suicide  in  *  Work/  "  she  wrote, 
"  but  as  much  of  that  chapter  was  true,  I  let  it 
stand  as  a  warning  to  several  people  who  need  it, 
to  my  knowledge,  and  to  many  whom  I  do  not 
know.  I  have  already  had  letters  from  strangers 
thanking  me  for  it,  so  I  am  not  sorry  it  went  in. 
One  must  have  both  the  light  and  dark  side  to  paint 
life  truly." 

"  Work "  contains  twenty  chapters,  and  takes 
Christie  from  her  twenty-first  birthday  to  her  for- 
tieth, which  puts  the  story  at  once  a  trifle  out  of 
the  reach  of  "  little  men  and  women  " ;  the  thought- 
ful girl,  the  sober  boy  from  sixteen  to  twenty,  will 
appreciate  it,  and  older  heads  still  see  much  that  is 
fine  and  good  in  it.  Louisa  was  writing  her  own 
biography,  and  from  the  time  she  was  twenty-one 
she  struggled  as  Christie  did ;  what  she  .says  of  her 
heroine  applies  to  herself : 

"  Twenty-one  to-morrow,  and  her  inheritance  a 
head,  a  heart,  a  pair  of  hands;  also  the  dower  of 
most  New  England  girls — intelligence,  courage,  and 
common  sense,  many  practical  gifts  and  hidden 
under  the  reserve  which  soon  melts  in  a  genial 
atmosphere,  much  romance  and  enthusiasm,  and 
the  spirit  which  can  rise  to  heroism  when  the  great 
moment  comes." 

This  New  England  girl  began  at  the  bottom,  and 


258  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

in  her  experience  as  a  servant,  Miss  Alcott  has 
faithfully  recorded  her  own  unpleasant  trial,  even  to 
the  polishing  of  her  master's  boots;  it  was  at  this 
point  that  Louisa  rebelled,  but  poor  Christie  was 
differently  situated ;  she  had  no  "  Marmee  "  to  turn 
to  as  a  refuge,  so  she  had  to  bring  forth  all  her  phi- 
losophy and  learn  to  polish  boots  properly. 

As  an  actress,  Christie  touches  closely  on  Louisa's 
life;  all  the  trials,  temptations,  wild  ambitions,  and 
rude  awakening  are  true  to  life.  Even  her  favorite 
Dickens  was  patronized  by  Christie. 

As  governess,  companion,  seamstress,  surely  Miss 
Alcott's  own  experience  told  the  tale  of  Christie's, 
even  in  her  despairing  moments,  which  were  so 
closely  related  to  the  time  when  Louisa's  resolute 
heart  failed  her,  when  manuscripts  "  came  home  to 
roost,"  or  the  tired  fingers  and  back  ached  with  the 
dreary,  endless  stitching. 

In  speaking  of  "  Work  "  Miss  Alcott  said  to  a 
friend :  "  Christie's  adventures  are  many  of  them 
my  own;  Mr.  Power  is  Mr.  Parker,  Mrs.  Wilkins 
is  imaginary,  and  all  the  rest."  This  may  be  true, 
and  yet  in  the  character  of  David  Sterling  there  is 
a  strong  suggestion  of  her  old  friend  Thoreau.  His 
love  of  all  growing  things  and  outdoor  life,  his 
name,  his  gentle  ways,  his  sturdy  patriotism,  and 
above  all  his  playing  of  the  flute.  Louisa  put  her 
poem  "  Thoreau's  Flute,"  in  beautiful  prose,  in  the 
chapter  called  "  Little  Heartsease." 

As  might  have  been  expected,  "  Work  "  sold  well, 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  259 

and  though  criticised  more  than  any  of  her  stories, 
she  felt  that  her  labor  had  not  been  in  vain. 

In  April,  she  went  home  to  take  May's  place,  and 
sent  her  back  to  London,  happy  and  independent, 
with  a  gift  of  a  thousand  dollars  for  another  year 
of  study.  She  had  spent  seven  months  in  Boston, 
had  written  "  a  book  and  ten  tales,  earned  three 
thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  by  my  pen, 
and  am  satisfied  with  my  winter's  work." 

Feeling  unable  to  do  active  home  work,  which 
had  always  been  such  a  rest  to  her  tired  brain,  and 
unwilling  to  put  up  with  the  trifling  of  servants, 
Miss  Alcott  decided  to  get  a  nice  American  woman, 
who  could  cook  and  help  her  with  the  housework, 
and  the  treasure  she  secured  made  the  family 
rejoice. 

"  Peace  fell  upon  our  troubled  souls,  and  all  went 
well.  Good  meals,  tidy  house,  cheerful  service,  and 
in  the  P.M.  an  intelligent  young  person  to  read  and 
sew  with  us.  It  was  curious  how  she  came  to  us; 
she  had  taught  and  sewed,  and  was  tired,  and 
wanted  something  else ;  decided  to  try  for  a  house- 
keeper's place,  but  happened  to  read  "  Work,"  and 
thought  she'd  do  as  Christie  did— take  anything 
that  came.  I  was  the  first  who  answered  her  ad- 
vertisement, and  when  she  found  I  wrote  the  book, 
she  said :  '  I'll  go  and  see  if  Miss  Alcott  practices  as 
she  preaches.'  " 

Feeling  care-free  in  such  capable  hands,  Louisa 
and  little  Johnny  went  to  the  seaside  for  a  week, 


260  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

but  were  summoned  home  by  the  alarming  illness 
of  Mrs.  Alcott.  For  three  weeks  she  hovered  at 
death's  door,  unconscious  most  of  the  time,  and 
those  who  loved  her  best  feared  she  would  slip 
away,  but  she  came  slowly  back  to  life,  the  shadow 
of  a  great  change  upon  her. 

Louisa  saw  this  at  once;  the  brave,  energetic 
"  Marmee  "  was  gone  forever,  and  in  her  place,  a 
feeble  old  woman  who  knew  that  she  must  now 
tread  the  downward  path.  They  all  knew  it,  too, 
father  and  daughters,  and  they  strove  to  keep  the 
skies  sunny,  and  the  way  easy  for  the  tired  feet.  It 
was  all  they  could  do  for  one  whose  life  service  had 
been  for  them. 

When  Louisa  faced  sorrow,  it  was  always  with 
bravery.  Death  did  not  mean  the  end  of  things  to 
her;  love  lived  always,  and  the  family  tie  was  too 
strong  to  be  broken.  However,  "  Marmee  "  was 
not  to  leave  them  yet,  and  they  rejoiced  over  her 
improvement.  During  the  late  summer  and  early 
fall  she  was  able  to  take  quiet  drives  with  Louisa, 
and  her  birthday,  the  8th  of  October,  was  celebrated 
merrily.  Miss  Alcott  made  a  little  story  about  it 
which  she  called  "  A  Happy  Birthday,"  and  invested 
the  fifty  dollars  it  brought  in  drives  for  the  invalid. 

She  determined  to  move  the  family  to  Boston 
for  the  winter,  as  Concord  was  always  cold  and 
bleak.  She  found  sunny,  cheerful  rooms,  and  a 
nice  school  for  the  boys,  while  the  three  tired 
women  "  rested  up  "  after  the  hard  spring  and  sum- 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  261 

mer.  This  being  a  sort  of  hospital  trip  for  "  Mar- 
mee  "  and  Anna,  to  say  nothing  of  herself,  Louisa 
did  little  or  no  work.  "  Pot-boilers,"  of  course,  she 
did  not  count ;  once  given  an  idea  it  was  easy  enough 
to  rush  into  a  story,  and  from  November  to  April 
she  earned  a  thousand  dollars  in  that  easy  fashion. 
But  her  mother  had  another  severe  illness,  and 
Louisa  had  a  heartache.  Her  sympathy  turned 
toward  her  father.  In  some  way  his  philosophy, 
his  sweet  patience,  had  never  brought  him  his  re- 
ward, and  to  Louisa  it  seemed  rather  hard  that  she 
should  have  the  fame,  and  he  the  crumbs.  She  be- 
gan to  think  the  world  a  little  out  of  gear.  She 
writes : 

"  When  I  had  the  youth,  I  had  no  money;  now 
I  have  the  money  I  have  no  time;  and  when  I  get 
the  time,  if  I  ever  do,  I  shall  have  no  health  to 
enjoy  life.  I  suppose  it's  the  discipline  I  need;  but 
it's  rather  hard  to  love  the  things  I  do,  and  see 
them  go  by  because  duty  chains  me  to  my  galley. 
If  I  ever  come  into  port  with  all  sail  set,  that  will 
be  reward,  perhaps.  Life  always  was  a  puzzle  to 
me,  and  gets  more  mysterious  as  I  go  on.  I  shall 
find  it  out  by  and  by,  and  see  that  it's  all  right, 
if  I  can  only  keep  brave  and  patient  to  the 
end." 

It  was  not  often  of  late  years  that  Louisa  spoke 
so  freely  in  her  journal  about  her  own  thoughts  and 
feelings.  As  a  child  and  a  growing  girl,  she  had 
found  the  pages  of  her  diary  helpful  reminders  of 


262  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

duty.  The  solemn,  questioning  little  girl  was  feel- 
ing her  course  and  liked  to  trace  it  with  her  pen, 
but  the  real  cares  of  life  had  left  her  little  time  for 
self-examination.  Instead,  as  we  can  see,  she  read 
her  Emerson,  and  profited  by  his  teaching.  This 
dear  friend  was  her  idol  still,  and  the  self-reliant, 
heroic  young  woman,  so  nobly  carrying  the  family 
burdens,  no  doubt  inspired  the  philosopher,  for  he 
admired  her  greatly.  Perhaps  it  was  of  her  he 
thought  when  he  wrote  in  his  essay  on  "  Hero- 
ism," which  every  American  girl  should  read: 

"  Let  the  maiden  with  erect  soul  walk  serenely  on 
her  way,  accept  the  hint  of  each  new  experience, 
search  in  turn  all  the  objects  that  solicit  her  eye,  that 
she  may  learn  the  power  and  charm  of  her  new-born 
being,  which  is  the  kindling  of  a  new  dawn  in  the 
recesses  of  space.  .  .  .  Oh,  friend,  never  strike  sail 
to  a  fear!  Come  into  port  greatly,  or  sail  with 
God  the  seas.  Not  in  vain  you  live,  for  every  pass- 
ing eye  is  cheered  and  refined  by  the  vision." 

This  was  Louisa,  heart  and  soul,  as  those  who 
loved  her  knew. 

The  return  of  May  in  the  spring,  laden  with  rich 
spoils  from  her  year's  study,  enlivened  the  house- 
hold as  usual.  She  brought  with  her  lovely  sketches 
and  copies  of  Turner,  and  her  sister  gloried  in  her 
success.  They  stayed  in  Boston  long  enough  to 
erect  a  tablet  to  their  Grandmother  May,  which  they 
took  their  mother  to  see. 

"  A  pathetic  sight,"  writes  the  daughter,  "  to  see 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  263 

father  walk  up  the  aisle  with  the  feeble  old  wife  on 
his  arm,  as  they  went  to  be  married  nearly  fifty 
years  ago.  .  .  .  Several  old  ladies  came  in  and 
knew  Mother.  She  broke  down,  thinking  of  the 
time  when  she  and  her  mother  and  sisters,  and  father 
and  brothers  all  went  to  church  together,  and  we 
took  her  home,  saying :  '  This  isn't  my  Boston ;  all 
my  friends  are  gone.  I  never  want  to  see  it  any 
more.'  And  she  never  did." 

Poor  old  lady!  The  last  of  a  large  family,  sit- 
ting there,  thinking  of  the  past!  Is  it  a  wonder 
that  she  broke  down? 

After  they  were  settled  again  at  Concord  Louisa 
ran  away  to  Boston  by  herself,  and  started  work  in 
earnest.  The  Elgin  Watch  Company  offered  her 
a  gold  watch  or  a  hundred  dollars  for  a  story.  She 
chose  the  money,  and  wrote  "  My  Rococo  Watch," 
which  was  published  later  in  the  "  Spinning  Wheel 
Series."  She  had  now  become  such  a  sought-after 
person  that  the  publishers  began  to  quarrel  over  her 
unwritten  stories. 

"  I  rather  enjoyed  it,"  she  writes,  "  and  felt  im- 
portant with  Roberts,  Low,  and  Scribner  all  clamor- 
ing for  my  '  'umble  '  work.  No  peddling  poor  little 
manuscripts  now  and  feeling  rich  with  ten  dollars ! 
The  golden  goose  can  sell  her  eggs  for  a  good  price, 
if  she  isn't  killed  by  too  much  driving." 

The  "unwritten  story"  she  speaks  about  was 
evidently  "  Eight  Cousins,"  which  she  finished  in 
December,  and  which  was  published  in  serial  form 
18 


264  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

in  St.  Nicholas.  On  the  first  page  is  this  in- 
scription : 

To 

The  many  boys  and  girls,  whose  letters  it  has  been  impossi- 
ble to  answer,  this  book  is  dedicated  as  a  peace  offering, 
by  their  friend 

L.  M.  ALCOTT. 

Miss  Alcott  has  never  written  a  more  charming, 
wholesome  tale.  She  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  Boston 
and  the  harbor,  she  throws  a  bit  of  the  sea  in,  with 
a  strong  Scotch  flavor  and  true  American  accent, 
and  we  like  the  mixture.  There  are  boys,  boys, 
boys  everywhere;  she  glories  in  them,  she  revels  in 
them,  and  Uncle  Alec  is  the  biggest  boy  of  them  all. 

In  a  certain  sense  none  of  the  characters  has 
any  real  foundation.  The  golden-haired,  blue-eyed 
heroine,  Rose,  bears  a  strong  likeness  to  May,  and 
Uncle  Alec  has  a  great  deal  of  Louisa  herself 
tucked  away  in  his  old  bachelor's  heart.  Beyond 
a  doubt,  the  aunts  were  all  funny  portraits  of  people 
she  knew,  and  the  boys,  jolly,  hearty  fellows,  were 
like  all  other  boys  the  world  over. 

Louisa  turned  herself  loose  in  this  happy  meadow 
of  youth,  picking  the  prettiest  flowers  she  could  find 
for  her  boys  and  girls.  We  love  Rose,  with  her 
grace,  her  kindness,  her  generosity;  and  the  strong, 
capable  Phoebe,  with  her  dark  hair  and  black  eyes 
and  her  beautiful  voice;  and  the  kind  old  aunts, 
with  the  simple  old-fashioned  ways,  and  all  the 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  26$ 

rest  of  them;  and  we  are  glad  that  Miss  Alcott,  in 
her  preface,  has  promised  us  a  sequel — that  we  are 
not  to  say  good-by  to  the  Campbell  Clan  just  yet, 
that  there  is  to  be  a  "  Rose  in  Bloom  "  some  day 
not  far  off.  "  Eight  Cousins  "  found  its  niche  at 
once ;  the  boys  and  girls  to  whom  it  was  dedicated 
felt  pacified  in  spite  of  the  unanswered  letters. 

I  fancy  Louisa  enjoyed  the  education  of  this 
motherless  and  fatherless  little  Rose;  she  put  a  good 
many  of  her  own  ideas  in  Uncle  Alec's  wise  head. 
It  was  his  opinion  that  if  Rose  had  a  good  grip  of 
the  "  three  R's  "  she  would  do  pretty  well.  "  Let 
us  be  thorough,"  he  said,  "  no  matter  how  slowly 
we  go."  He  objected  to  the  fashionable  school- 
teacher, who  "  crammed  her  pupils  like  Thanksgiv- 
ing turkeys,  instead  of  feeding  them  in  a  natural 
and  wholesome  way." 

"As  figures  are  rather  important  things  to  most 
of  us,"  he  suggested,  when  Rose  showed  him  a 
dilapidated  account  book,  "  wouldn't  it  be  wise  to 
begin  at  once  and  learn  to  manage  your  pennies 
before  the  pounds  come  to  perplex  you  ?" 

That  Rose  liked  her  simple,  everyday  lessons  we 
take  for  granted,  when  she  answers  with  a  mixture 
of  fun  and  earnestness : 

"  You  shall  teach  me,  and  when  I  am  a  woman 
we  will  set  up  a  school  where  nothing  but  the  three 
R's  shall  be  taught,  and  all  the  children  live  on  oat- 
meal, and  the  girls  have  waists  a  yard  round." 

He  believed  in  fun,  too,  and  plenty  of  it,  and  not 


266  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

one  of  the  boys  was  keener  for  a  frolic  than  Dr. 
Alec,  always  planning  pleasant  surprises  when  Rose 
most  longed  for  it.  He  would  smile  and  say : 
"  Half  the  children's  pleasure  consists  in  having 
their  fun  when  they  want  it."  And  surely  never  in 
one  book  was  crowded  so  much  innocent  happiness 
and  fun,  so  many  helpful  lessons  of  love  and  sacri- 
fice, for  Miss  Alcott  wished  to  show  that  boys  and 
girls,  no  matter  what  their  station,  nor  how  wealthy 
they  may  be,  have  still  their  part  to  play  in  the 
work-a-day  world,  which  they  can  make  the  brighter 
and  better,  through  "  little  deeds  of  kindness." 
After  finishing  "  Eight  Cousins  "  she  arranged  for 
the  writing  of  "  Silver  Pitchers,"  which  was  to  be 
not  only  a  Centennial  story,  but  a  temperance  tale. 
There  is  not  much  in  it,  but  it  paid  well  and  went 
well ;  Louisa  herself  did  not  care  for  it.  "  Poor 
stuff,"  she  says,  "  but  the  mill  must  keep  on  grind- 
ing— even  chaff." 

It  was  not  often  she  disliked  her  literary  children. 
Generally  she  loved  them,  though  she  recognized 
their  faults,  but  the  "  written-to-order "  kind  of 
story  she  never  cared  for.  There  was  included  in 
this  volume,  which  has  recently  been  republished  in 
the  "  Spinning  Wheel  Series,"  under  the  title  of 
"  Silver  Pitchers,"  eight  other  tales  more  or  less 
interesting.  "My  Rococo  Watch,"  "  Letty's 
Tramp,"  and  "  Transcendental  Wild  Oats "  are 
the  best  among  them.  The  last-mentioned  story 
being  true  from  start  to  finish,  indeed,  a  graphic 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  267 

account  of  the  Fruit  lands  experiment,  told  in 
Louisa's  most  humorous  vein,  with  a  dash  of  real 
sentiment  here  and  there,  like  a  streak  of  gold. 

Feeling  that  she  had  earned,  if  not  a  vacation,  at 
least  a  recess,  she  ran  up  to  Vassar,  where  she  talked 
to  four  hundred  girls,  wrote  in  stacks  of  albums  and 
school  books,  and  kissed  everyone  who  asked  her. 
From  Vassar  she  went  to  New  York,  where  she 
stayed  but  a  short  while,  but  she  adds  in  her  jour- 
nal :  "  Things  look  rather  jolly,  and  I  may  try  a 
winter  there  sometime,  as  I  need  a  change  and  new 
ideas." 

By  March,  she  was  home  again  getting  ready  for 
the  Centennial  celebration  of  the  Concord  Fight, 
when  Paul  Revere  took  his  famous  ride,  and  the 
"  British  regulars  fired  and  fled."  As  usual,  she 
forgot  herself  in  the  enthusiasm  and  excitement,  the 
result  being  "  general  breakdown,  owing  to  an  un- 
wise desire  to  outdo  all  the  other  towns;  too  many 
people." 

June,  July,  and  August  she  generally  served  up 
together  in  her  journal,  and  that  season  of  1875  she 
writes :  "  Keep  house  at  home,  with  two  Irish  in- 
capables  to  trot  after,  and  ninety-two  guests  in  one 
month  to  entertain.  Fame  is  an  expensive  luxury; 
I  can  do  without  it.  This  is  my  worst  scrape,  I 
think.  I  asked  for  bread  and  got  a  stone — in  the 
shape  of  a  pedestal." 

But  in  a  certain  way  she  liked  her  popularity,  if 
it  did  not  walk  unbidden  into  her  home  circle.  She 


268  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

gives  a  humorous  description  of  a  Woman's  Con- 
gress she  attended  at  Syracuse  in  September,  1875 : 

"  Funny  time  with  the  girls.  Write  loads  of 
autographs,  dodge  at  the  theater,  and  am  kissed  to 
death  by  gushing  damsels.  One  energetic  lady 
grasped  my  hand  in  the  crowd,  exclaiming :  '  If  you 
ever  come  to  Oshkosh,  your  feet  will  not  be  allowed 
to  touch  the  ground;  you  will  be  borne  in  the  arms 
of  the  people !  Will  you  come  ?  '  '  Never/  re- 
sponded Miss  Alcott,  trying  to  look  affable  and 
dying  to  laugh,  as  the  good  soul  worked  my  arm 
like  a  pump-handle,  and  from  the  gallery,  genera- 
tions of  girls  were  looking  on.  This — this  is 
fame !  " 

Before  going  home,  she  visited  Niagara  and 
again  stopped  in  New  York,  where  she  had  a  most 
delightful  visit.  The  great  city  with  its  hurry  and 
bustle  gave  her  the  change  she  longed  for,  the  brain 
tonic  that  she  needed.  No  two  days  of  her  stay  were 
alike,  she  was  welcomed  in  literary  and  social  circles. 
She  caught  glimpses  of  the  very  rich  in  their  homes, 
of  the  very  poor  who  had  no  homes  at  all.  She  went 
to  receptions,  lectures,  concerts,  operas,  theaters. 
She  visited  the  Tombs,  Newsboys'  Home,  and  on 
Christmas  Day  went  to  Randall's  Island  with  her 
sweet  old  Quaker  friend,  Mrs.  Abby  Gibbons. 
These  last  expeditions  she  enjoyed  more  than  all  the 
parties  or  dinners.  But  even  though  a  giddy  per- 
son, she  is  also  "  a  thrifty  butterfly  "  as  she  writes 
her  father,  "  having  written  three  stories,  which  in- 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  269 

eluded  a  '  girl  paper  '  for  St.  Nick,  while  several 
other  papers  were  waiting  for  tales." 

"  So  far,"  she  adds,  "  I  like  New  York  very 
much,  and  feel  so  well  I  shall  stay  on  till  I'm  tired 
of  it.  People  begin  to  tell  me  how  much  better  I 
look  than  when  I  came,  and  I  have  not  an  ache  to 
fret  over.  This,  after  such  a  long  lesson  in  bodily 
ails,  is  a  blessing  for  which  I  am  duly  grateful." 

The  next  letter  to  her  little  nephews  describes  her 
visit  to  the  Newsboys'  Home,  which  she  enjoyed 
immensely.  One  hundred  and  eighty  boys  swarm- 
ing about  her  was  a  delight  in  itself  and  a  welcome 
experience.  She  speaks  specially  of  "  one  little 
chap,  only  six,  who  trotted  around,  busy  as  a  bee, 
putting  his  small  shoes  and  ragged  jacket  in  one 
of  the  lockers.  I  asked  about  little  Pete  and  the 
man  told  us  his  brother,  only  nine,  supported  him 
and  took  care  of  him  entirely  and  wouldn't  let 
Pete  be  sent  away  to  any  home,  because  he  wished 
to  have  his  '  family  '  with  him. 

"  Think  of  that,  Fred !  How  would  it  seem  to 
be  all  alone  in  a  big  city,  with  no  mamma  to  cuddle 
you;  no  two  grandpas'  houses  to  take  you  in;  not 
a  penny  but  what  you  earned,  and  Donny  to  take 
care  of?  Could  you  do  it?  Nine-year-old  Patsey 
does  it  capitally;  buys  Pete's  clothes,  pays  for  his 
bed  and  supper,  and  puts  pennies  in  the  savings 
bank.  There's  a  brave  little  man  for  you ! 

".  .  .  The  savings  bank  was  a  great  table  full 
of  slits,  each  one  leading  to  a  little  place  below  and 


270  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

numbered  outside,  so  each  boy  knew  his  own.  Once 
a  month  the  bank  is  opened,  and  the  lads  take  out 
what  they  like  or  have  it  invested  in  a  big  bank  for 
them  to  have  when  they  find  homes  out  West,  as 
many  do,  and  make  good  farmers.  A  boy  was  put- 
ting in  some  pennies  as  we  looked,  and  I  asked 
how  much  he  had  saved  this  month.  *  Fourteen 
dollars,  ma'am,'  said  the  thirteen-year-older,  proudly 
slipping  in  the  last  cent.  A  prize  of  three  dollars  is 
offered  to  the  lad  who  saves  the  most  in  a  month." 

She  closes  her  letter  to  the  boys  with  the  follow- 
ing bright  and  humorous  description  of  the  going- 
to-bed  arrangements.  "  At  nine,  the  word  '  Bed!  ' 
was  given,  and,"  she  winds  up,  "  away  went 
the  lads,  trooping  up  to  sleep  in  shirts  and  trousers 
as  nightgowns  are  not  provided.  How  would  a 
boy  I  know  like  that? — a  boy  who  likes  to  have 
'  trommin '  on  his  nighties.  Of  course,  I  don't 
mean  Dandy  Don !  Oh,  dear,  no !  " 

Her  visit  to  Randall's  Island,  Christmas  Day,  was 
full  of  interest,  though  her  heart  ached  for  the  little 
"  forlornities  "  she  saw  there.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  her  generous  hands  opened  wide  with  the  joy 
of  giving,  but  she  has  no  word  of  that,  only  praise 
and  admiration  for  the  sweet  Quaker  couple,  who 
were  beloved  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
island. 

She  writes  in  a  letter  to  her  family :  "  One  of 
the  teachers  in  the  idiot  home  was  a  Miss  C,  who 
remembered  Nan  at  Dr.  Wilbur's.  Very  ladylike 


PROGRESS  AND  PROSPERITY.  271 

and  all  devotion  to  me.  But  such  a  life!  Oh,  me! 
Who  can  lead  it  and  not  go  mad? 

"  At  four  we  left  and  came  home,  Mrs.  Gibbons 
giving  a  box  of  toys  and  sweeties  on  board  the  boat, 
for  the  childlren  of  the  men  who  own  it.  So  leav- 
ing a  stream  of  blessings  and  pleasures  behind  her, 
the  dear  old  lady  drove  away,  simply  saying: 
'  There,  now ;  I  shall  feel  better  for  the  next  year.' 
Well  she  may,  bless  her! 

"  She  made  a  speech  to  the  chapel  children,  .  .  . 
and  told  them  that  she  should  come  as  long  as  she 
could,  and  when  she  was  gone  her  children  would 
still  keep  it  up  in  memory  of  her ;  so  for  thirty  years 
more  she  hoped  this,  their  one  holiday,  would  be 
made  happy  for  them.  I  could  have  hugged  her 
on  the  spot,  the  motherly  old  dear! 

"...  I  got  home  at  five,  and  then  remembered 
I'd  had  no  lunch;  so  I  took  an  apple  till  six,  when 
I  discovered  that  all  had  dined  at  one,  so  the  helpers 
could  go  early  this  evening.  Thus  my  Christmas 
Day  was  without  dinner  or  presents,  for  the  first 
time  since  I  can  remember.  Yet  it  has  been  a  very 
memorable  day,  and  I  feel  as  if  I'd  had  a  splendid 
feed,  seeing  the  poor  babies  wallow  in  turkey  and 
soup,  and  that  every  gift  I  put  into  their  hands  had 
come  back  to  me  in  the  dumb  delight  of  their 
unchildlike  faces  trying  to  smile." 

Altogether,  Louisa's  visit  to  New  York  was  a 
great  success.  At  forty-three,  she  was  not  too  old 
to  enjoy  the  pageant  of  the  great  city,  and  this  she 


272  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

did  most  thoroughly,  while,  as  we  see,  she  looked 
deep  down  into  the  heart  of  the  sober  side,  doing 
what  she  could  to  help  along,  and  she  went  back  to 
Boston  feeling  all  the  better,  physically  and  men- 
tally, for  her  contact  with  this  outside  world. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

MORE    LITERARY    CHILDREN. 

URING  the  summer  of  1876,  which  was 
spent  in  Concord  nursing  her  mother, 
now  constantly  ill,  Louisa  had  a  busy 
time.  Here  are  some  items  from  her 
journal,  to  show  how  hands  and  heart  and  brain 
were  all  in  motion: 

"  June — Lovely  month !  Keep  hotel  and  wait  on 
Marmee. 

"  Try  to  get  up  steam  for  a  new  serial,  as  Mrs. 
Dodge  wants  one,  and  Scribner  offers  three  thou- 
sand dollars  for  it.  Roberts  Brothers  want  a  novel ; 
and  the  various  newspapers  and  magazines  clamor 
for  tales.  My  brain  is  squeezed  dry,  and  I  can 
only  wait  for  help. 

"  July  and  August — Get  an  idea  and  start  '  Rose 
in  Bloom/  though  I  hate  sequels." 

The  Scribners  at  that  time  were  the  publishers  of 
St.  Nicholas.  Mrs.  Mary  Mapes  Dodge,  the  editor- 
in-chief,  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Miss  Alcott's,  so 
it  was  not  remarkable  that  the  children's  great  maga- 
zine should  make  every  effort  to  secure  contribu- 
tions from  the  children's  great  writer,  for  there  was 
273 


274  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

now  no  doubt  that,  in  her  own  line,  Louisa  had  no 
equal.  Though  she  never  bound  herself  to  any 
special  publication,  she  is  to  be  found  very  often  in 
the  pages  of  St.  Nicholas,  and  "  Rose  in  Bloom  " 
had  long  been  promised  to  the  enthusiastic  young 
readers. 

This  mighty  task  of  twenty-two  chapters  was 
accomplished  in  three  weeks,  and  proved  to  be  one 
of  the  sweetest  and  brightest  of  her  stories.  Rose, 
as  a  grown-up  heroine,  is  charming ;  the  sort  of  girl 
we  all  love,  the  sort  of  woman  men  admire  and 
reverence ;  and  dark,  splendid  Phoebe,  with  the  glori- 
ous voice,  is  a  beautiful  contrast;  two  royal  girls 
full  of  life  and  youth,  and  hope,  and  noble  purpose. 
But  she  has  not  neglected  her  boys,  they  have  turned 
out  fine  clansmen,  and  even  though  Charlie's  weak- 
ness got  the  upper  hand,  he  was  a  handsome,  lovable 
fellow,  and  many  a  secret  sigh  has  been  breathed  at 
his  shrine  by  romantic  damsels,  who  admire  the 
"  bold  and  dashing "  hero.  In  the  studious  Mac 
and  quiet,  steadfast  Archie,  she  has  fashioned  two 
men  worthy  of  her  pen,  while  the  other  characters 
she  has  mellowed  and  broadened  with  the  passing 
years. 

It  is  so  delightful  to  meet  our  old  friends  in  this 
happy  fashion,  and  when  Rose  comes  home  from 
Europe  to  take  possession  of  her  property,  we  feel 
that  the  "  coming  out "  party  is  not  the  beginning 
and  end  of  things  for  a  rich  and  pretty  girl. 

The  glimpses  she  had  recently  had  of  the  enor- 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  275 

mous  charities  of  a  great  city  had  given  Louisa  a 
weapon  to  put  into  the  hands  of  her  young  heiress, 
whose  good  works  take  the  shape  of  a  home  for 
gentlewomen,  a  hospital  for  sick  babies,  and  best  of 
all,  the  "  Rose  Garden  "  where  the  little  creatures 
could  toddle  about  in  the  fresh  air.  Rose  even 
adopts  a  little  waif  herself,  a  sad  and  solemn  child 
with  big  wistful  eyes,  which  had  seen  too  much  of 
the  world's  sorrow. 

Miss  Alcott  is  more  romantic  than  usual  in  her 
love  scenes,  but  she  is  specially  happy  when  she 
comes  close  to  Nature,  in  the  chapter  "  Among  the 
Hay-Cocks."  It  is  full  of  the  poetry  of  Keats,  the 
ramblings  of  Thoreau,  and  the  philosophy  of  Emer- 
son, a  fitting  background  to  the  budding  love  of  a 
strong  man  and  a  fair  girl.  From  that  time  began 
the  unfolding  of  the  petals  from  about  the  golden 
heart  of  the  Rose,  and  Miss  Alcott  almost  turns  poet 
as  she  lingers  over  the  sweet  love  story. 

"  Rose  in  Bloom  "  was  published  in  November  of 
the  Centennial  year,  and  went  well  from  the  first, 
taking  its  place  among  the  most  popular  of  her 
books.  Before  it  was  finished,  May  sailed  again 
for  another  year  of  study  abroad,  a  journey  from 
which  she  never  returned. 

"  God  be  with  her !  "  writes  Louisa,  from  a  heart 
full  of  foreboding.  "  She  has  done  her  distasteful 
duty  faithfully,  and  deserves  a  reward.  She  cannot 
find  the  help  she  needs  here,  and  is  happy  and  busy 
in  her  own  world  over  there." 


276  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

This  time  their  "  little  Raphael "  made  many 
strides.  "  I  am  getting  on,"  she  wrote  her  home 
people,  "  and  I  feel  as  if  it  was  not  all  a  mistake, 
for  I  have  some  talent  and  will  prove  it,"  and  her 
sister  adds:  "  Modesty  is  a  sign  of  genius,  and  I 
think  our  girl  has  both.  The  money  I  invest  in  her 
pays  the  sort  of  interest  I  like.  I  am  proud  to  have 
her  show  what  she  can  do,  and  have  her  depend  on 
no  one  but  me." 

The  winter  of  1877  opened  well.  Anna  kept 
house,  and  the  boys,  tall,  fine  lads,  filled  it  with  sun- 
shine. Mr.  Alcott  was  writing  a  book,  "  Marmee  " 
was  cozy  with  her  sewing,  her  letters,  and  her 
"  girls,"  so  Louisa  felt  free  to  slip  away  to  Boston 
for  some  weeks.  Here,  at  the  request  of  Roberts 
Brothers,  she  wrote  a  novel  called  "  A  Modern 
Mephistopheles  "  for  their  famous  No  Name  Scries. 

"  It  has  been  simmering  ever  since  I  read  '  Faust ' 
last  year,"  she  tells  us.  "  Enjoyed  doing  it,  being 
tired  of  providing  moral  pap  for  the  young.  Long 
to  write  a  novel  but  cannot  get  time  enough." 

This  was  the  result  of  one  of  her  fits  of  rebellion. 
Louisa  turned  loose,  pranced  like  a  colt,  having 
shaken  off  the  halter ;  and  she  gave  rein  to  that  vivid, 
morbid  fancy  of  hers,  which  in  the  early  days  had 
sold  so  many  sensational  "  pot-boilers."  Safely 
hidden,  as  to  her  identity,  she  enjoyed  the  mystery 
of  her  "  Modern  Mephistopheles."  but  it  is  fairly 
certain  that  she  would  never  have  allowed  this 
queer  child  of  hers  to  bear  her  name.  The  story 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  277 

is  as  weird  as  Goethe's  "  Faust  "  without  its  great- 
ness; there  is  neither  hope,  nor  light,  nor  joy  in  it. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  moral,  but  the  afflictions  and 
catastrophes  crowd  so  thick  that  the  thread  of  gold 
is  lost  in  the  maze  of  evil.  For  the  first  time  she 
fails  to  present  life  as  she  found  it.  She  draws  on 
her  imagination  and  from  what  she  has  read. 

Mrs.  Cheney,  in  speaking  of  this  work  in  the 
"  Life  and  Letters,"  says :  "  We  do  not  find  Louisa 
Alcott's  own  broad,  generous,  healthy  life,  or  that 
which  lay  around  her  in  this  book,  but  the  remi- 
niscences of  her  reading,  which  she  had  striven  to 
make  her  own  by  invention  and  fancy."  In  itself 
a  fine  bit  of  work,  it  adds  nothing  to  Miss  Alcott's 
fame  as  a  writer,  but  it  excited  much  comment  and 
a  great  deal  of  guessing,  which  the  author  enjoyed 
most  heartily. 

The  following  letter  to  her  publisher,  Mr.  Niles, 
shows  the  family  feeling  regarding  the  book : 

"  DEAR  MR.  NILES  : 

"  I  had  to  keep  the  proof  longer  than  I  meant, 
because  a  funeral  came  in  the  way. 

"  The  book  as  last  sent  is  lovely,  and  much  bigger 
than  I  expected. 

"  Poor  '  Marmee/  ill  in  bed,  hugged  it  and  said: 
*  It  is  perfect,  only  I  do  wish  your  name  could  be 
on  it/  She  is  very  proud  of  it ;  and  tender-hearted 
Anna  weeps  and  broods  over  it,  calling  Gladys  the 
best  and  sweetest  character  I  ever  did.  So  much 


278  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

for  home  opinion,  now  let's  see  what  the  public  will 
say.  May  clamors  for  it,  but  I  don't  want  to  send 
this  till  she  has  had  one  or  two  of  the  others.  [She 
refers  here  to  the  novels  which  came  out  in  the 
No  Name  Series.]  Have  you  sent  her  '  Is  That 
All?'  If  not,  please  do;  then  it  won't  look  sus- 
picious to  send  only  '  M.  M.'  [Modern  Mephis- 
topheles]. 

"  I  am  so  glad  the  job  is  done,  and  hope  it  won't 
disgrace  the  Series.  Is  not  another  to  come  before 
this  ?  I  hope  so,  for  many  people  suspect  what  is 
up.  ... 

"  Thanks  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken  to  keep 
the  secret.  Now  the  fun  will  begin. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  L.  M.  A." 

It  is  plainly  to  be  seen  that  while  May  might  have 
known  that  her  sister  was  writing  a  novel  for  the 
Series,  she  was  not  told  the  title  of  the  story,  and 
had  therefore  to  pick  it  from  among  the  many 
Roberts  Brothers  sent  her  as  puzzles. 

At  last  Louisa  was  able  to  carry  out  a  cherished 
plan;  she  helped  Anna  buy  the  Thoreau  place  for 
herself  and  the  boys,  who  were  growng  up  fast  and 
needed  a  home  of  their  own,  and  the  two  sisters 
had  happy  times  together  beautifying  the  old- 
fashioned  yellow  house,  where  Thoreau  had  spent 
his  last  days,  and  which  was  full  of  the  sweetest 
memories  to  them  both. 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  279 

"  Helped  to  buy  the  house  for  Nan,"  writes 
Louisa,  "  so  she  has  her  wish  and  is  happy.  When 
shall  I  have  mine?  Ought  to  be  contented  with 
knowing  I  help  both  sisters  by  my  brains.  But 
I'm  selfish,  and  want  to  go  away  and  rest  in  Europe. 
Never  shall." 

She  put  away  her  private  woes,  however,  to  re- 
joice in  May's  triumph.  She  had  been  through  a 
hard  winter  of  study  in  Paris,  and  at  the  request  of 
her  teacher,  sent  a  bit  of  still  life  to  the  Salon.  It 
was  accepted,  hung  and  much  praised  by  the  judges. 
May  was  jubilant,  her  family  scarcely  less  so,  and 
the  star  of  fame  glimmered  afar  for  the  young  artist, 
whose  hard  work  and  talent  were  beginning  to  be 
recognized. 

May  and  June  were  passed  happily  and  peace- 
fully at  Concord  with  the  dear  invalid,  who  grew 
more  feeble  each  day,  though  she  was  still  able  to 
drive  gently  in  a  low  basket  phaeton  through  the 
beautiful  woods  she  loved  so  well.  Louisa  forgot 
her  own  ailments  in  the  sweet  companionship  of 
those  summer  days.  Indeed,  she  began  to  hope 
that  her  old  enemy,  neuralgia,  had  completely  dis- 
appeared. Then  it  is  to  be  feared  that  her  energy 
got  the  better  of  her  prudence,  for  in  July  she 
records : 

"  Got  too  tired  and  was  laid  up  for  some  weeks. 
A  curious  time,  lying  quite  happily  at  rest,  won- 
dering what  was  to  come  next." 

In  August,  she  felt  better  and  began  "  Under  the 
19 


280  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Lilacs,"  which  was  to  make  its  bow  in  the  fall,  as 
a  serial  in  St.  Nicholas. 

In  September,  "  Marmee  "  was  much  worse,  and 
the  two  daughters,  who  watched  her  so  anxiously, 
saw  that  the  end  was  very  near.  No  one  knew  what 
the  parting  meant  tc  Louisa.  Anna  had  her  boys  ; 
May  her  pictures;  but  her  whole  life  had  been  one 
earnest  endeavor  to  make  her  mother's  pathway 
easy,  and  to  see  her  slipping  away  in  the  midst  of 
prosperity,  when  luxuries  could  be  had  for  the  ask- 
ing, was  hard  indeed. 

All  through  their  trials  and  their  hardships 
"  Marmee's  "  had  been  the  steadying  hand  upon  the 
wheel.  Her  strength  was  not  the  calm  of  a  serene 
philosopher  like  her  husband,  but  the  practical 
energy  of  an  everyday,  wide-awake  woman,  ready 
to  help  those  she  loved  best  out  of  every  dilemma, 
never  faltering  when  the  way  was  rough  and  stony, 
as  it  was  too  often.  In  such  cases  she  never  waited 
for  the  stones  to  roll  away;  she  moved  them  her- 
self, a  strong,  bright  example  for  her  little  girls, 
who,  one  and  all,  inherited  that  courageous  spirit. 
Louisa,  in  particular,  showed  this  influence  from  the 
day  of  small  tasks  till  the  great  ones  were  finished. 

The  girls  could  never  remember  when  "  Mar- 
mee "  was  not  brimming  over  with  fun  and  a  quaint 
humor.  There  were  innumerable  household  sayings 
which  came  direct  from  her,  and  which  have  since 
grown  into  family  proverbs ;  there  were  funny  anec- 
dotes, to  which  only  she  could  do  justice.  She 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  281 

was  the  soul  of  hospitality;  the  fountain-head  of 
every  frolic.  She  had  a  quick  temper  under  per- 
fect control,  which  is  better  by  far  than  a  naturally 
even  disposition  which  requires  no  effort  at  all  to 
subdue,  and  she  taught  her  girls  this  golden  secret. 
In  "  Little  Women "  Louisa  certainly  paid  royal 
tribute  to  her  mother,  for  Marmee  stands  out  in 
the  story  a  portrait  of  wonderful  light  and  color. 
Indeed,  every  mother  Miss  Alcott  created — and  she 
was  fond  of  writing  about  mothers — had  "  Mar- 
mee "  for  a  model. 

Had  not  Mrs.  Alcott  been  such  a  busy  woman 
she  would  probably  have  written,  for  she  had  a 
vivid  imagination,  keen  humor,  a  poetic  streak,  and 
her  journals,  had  they  been  preserved,  would  have 
given  to  the  world  interesting  records  of  the  family 
life.  Her  letters  to  her  children  were  always 
simple  and  sincere,  full  of  an  earnest  endeavor  to 
lead  them  in  the  right  way,  and  the  little  motherly 
notes  tucked  under  her  pillow  did  much  for  Louisa 
in  forming  the  character  of  a  restless,  turbulent  and 
often  wayward  little  girl.  So  it  was  hard  for  those 
who  loved  her  to  stand  by  while  the  great  soul 
struggled  for  release  from  the  frail  body. 

Yet  while  Louisa  watched  and  waited  her  brain 
was  lively,  and  her  pen  flew.  She  wrote  "My 
Girls  "  to  go  with  other  tales  in  a  new  "  Scrap-Bag," 
and  finished  "  Under  the  Lilacs,"  one  of  the  bright- 
est, liveliest,  and  youngest  of  her  children.  She 
says :  "  It  always  takes  an  exigency  to  spur  me 


282  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

up  and  wring  out  a  book.  Never  have  time  to 
go  slowly  and  do  my  best."  The  nursing  and  anx- 
iety were  such  a  strain,  that  fearing  she  might 
break  down  at  the  last,  Louisa  got  a  nurse  and 
rested  a  little. 

She  writes  of  her  mother  in  October :  "  We 
thought  she  would  not  outlive  her  seventy-seventh 
birthday,  but  thanks  to  Dr.  W.  she  got  relief, 
and  we  had  a  sad  little  celebration,  well  knowing 
it  would  be  the  last.  Aunt  B.  and  L.  W.  came  up 
with  fruit  and  flowers,  smiling  faces  and  full  hearts, 
and  we  sat  around  the  brave  soul,  who  faced  death 
so  calmly,  and  was  ready  to  go. 

"  I  overdid,  and  was  very  ill,  in  danger  of  my 
life  for  a  week,  and  feared  to  go  before  '  Marmee.' 
But  pulled  through,  and  got  up  slowly  to  help  her 
die.  A  strange  month !  " 

In  November,  she  was  very  feeble,  and  her 
mother  failing  fast.  On  the  I4th,  the  two  invalids 
were  removed  to  Anna's  new  home,  and,  on  the  25th, 
"  Marmee "  died  quietly  in  Louisa's  arms.  Her 
daughter  writes  touchingly  of  the  peaceful  hour, 
while  the  rain  fell  gently  in  the  Sabbath  stillness 
and  they  sat  watching  the  ebbing  life. 

"  She  was  very  happy  all  day,  thinking  herself  a 
girl  again  with  parents  and  sisters  around  her.  Said 
her  Sunday  hymn  to  me,  whom  she  called  '  Mother,' 
and  smiled  at  us,  saying :  '  A  smile  is  as  good  as  a 
prayer.'  Looked  often  at  the  little  picture  of  May, 
and  waved  her  hand  to  it.  '  Good-by,  little  May, 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  283 

good-by! '  Her  last  words  to  Father  were:  '  You 
are  laying  a  very  soft  pillow  for  me  to  go  to  sleep 
on.'  " 

She  was  buried  in  Sleepy  Hollow,  close  beside 
Beth,  and  for  a  while  the  two  daughters  could  only 
sit  quietly  by,  "  resting  in  her  rest."  The  calm  of 
a  great  despair  seemed  to  fall  upon  Louisa. 

"  My  duty  is  done,"  she  writes,  "  now  I  shall  be 
glad  to  follow.  ...  I  never  wish  her  back,  but  a 
great  warmth  seems  gone  out  of  life,  and  there  is 
no  motive  to  go  on  now.  My  only  comfort  is  that 
I  could  make  her  last  years  comfortable,  and  lift 
off  the  burden  she  had  carried  so  bravely  all  these 
years.  She  was  so  loyal,  tender,  and  true;  life  was 
hard  for  her,  and  no  one  understood  all  she  had  to 
bear,  but  we,  her  children." 

This  somber  tone  was  not  like  Louisa.  She  was 
ill,  she  was  passing  through  a  deep  grief,  and  she 
was  weary  in  body  and  soul.  But  a  month's  reflec- 
tion made  her  see  things  in  a  clearer  light. 

"  Father  goes  about,  being  restless  with  his 
anchor  gone.  Dear  Nan  is  house-mother  now,  so 
patient,  thoughtful,  and  tender;  I  need  nothing  but 
that  cherishing  which  only  mothers  can  give." 

In  the  beautiful  poem,  called  "  Transfiguration," 
which  she  wrote  in  memory  of  her  mother,  Louisa 
showed  to  what  heights  her  genius  could  soar  when 
moved  by  a  strong  emotion.  The  last  two  verses 
show  besides,  the  love  and  admiration  her  mother's 
character  called  forth  : 


284  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

Oh,  noble  woman!  never  more  a  queen, 
Than  in  the  laying  down 
Of  scepter  and  of  crown, 

To  win  a  greater  kingdom,  yet  unseen; 

Teaching  us  how  to  seek  the  highest  goal, 
To  earn  the  true  success, — 
To  live,  to  love,  to  bless, — 

And  make  death  proud  to  take  a  royal  soul. 


Both  Louisa  and  her  father  had  this  singular 
trait;  when  deeply  moved  by  a  great  emotion  or  a 
great  grief,  they  found  that  poetry  came  freely  to 
their  pens — not  mere  verse  or  rhyme,  but  truly 
inspired  thought.  "  Thoreau's  Flute  "  and  those 
beautiful  lines  just  quoted  would  of  themselves 
stamp  Louisa  as  a  poet,  had  she  written  nothing 
else.  But  the  practical  needs  of  life  made  her 
turn  resolutely  from  the  "  Poet's  Corner  "  where 

"Many  a  flow'r  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air," 

and  where  much  praise  and  little  money  would  have 
been  her  portion. 

Her  writing,  as  usual,  proved  her  truest  consola- 
tion. "  Under  the  Lilacs,"  which  had  been  finished 
at  her  mother's  bedside,  was  hailed  by  the  younger 
readers  with  delight.  A  boy,  two  girls,  and  a  dog 
are  enough  to  make  any  tale  interesting,  and 
Sanch',  being  such  a  wonderfully  accomplished 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  285 

dog,  was  considered  by  many  to  be  the  hero  of  the 
story.  This  was  the  first  time  Louisa  had  ever  in- 
dulged her  love  of  animals  in  public,  and  she  took  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  in  building  her  dog  on  regu- 
lar circus  lines,  going  to  various  shows  where  per- 
forming dogs  were  the  attraction,  in  order  that 
Sancho's  tricks  should  be  true  to  life. 

Accepting  Sanch',then,  as  the  hero,  Louisa,  while 
she  certainly  put  many  lifelike  touches  to  her  other 
little  characters,  did  not  take  them  wholly  from 
life;  there  are  many  Babs  and  Bettys  in  the  world; 
many  good,  honest,  independent  Bens.  The  only 
"  really  "  real  person  was  the  little  six-year-old  son 
of  F.  B.  Sanborn  who,  under  the  name  of  Alfred 
Tennyson  Barlow,  recited  verses  of  his  own  compo- 
sition in  the  chapter  called  "A  Happy  Tea."  Here 
they  are: 

"Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
Swept  o'er  my  happy  days  at  home; 
Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
When  I  was  a  little  child. 

"  Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
That  I  spent  with  my  father  at  home; 
Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
When  children  played  about  the  house. 

"Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
When  the  lamps  are  lighted  at  night; 
Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
When  the  flowers  of  summer  bloomed. 


286  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT 

"  Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
Dead  are  the  snows  of  winter; 
Sweet  are  the  flowers  of  life, 
When  the  days  of  spring  come  on." 

This  was  truly  the  production  of  Mr.  Sanborn's 
little  son  at  the  age  of  six,  and  here  is  another  frag- 
ment he  composed,  when  "  digging  after  turtles." 

"  Sweet,  sweet  days  are  passing 
O'er  my  happy  home, 

Passing  on  swift  wings  through  the  valley  of  life. 
Cold  are  the  days  when  winter  comes  again, 
When  my  sweet  days  were  passing  at  my  happy  home. 
Sweet  were  the  days  on  the  rivulet's  green  brink, 
Sweet  were  the  days  when  I  read  my  father's  books; 
Sweet  were  the  winter  days  when  bright  fires  were  blazing." 

The  quaintness  of  the  child,  the  queer  chanting 
ring  of  the  lines,  caught  Louisa's  fancy,  so  she 
popped  them  into  her  story. 

Her  chief  care  being  now  her  father,  she  deter- 
mined that,  though  late  in  life,  recognition  should 
come  to  him  at  last,  and  it  was  chiefly  through  her 
planning  and  assistance  that  the  long-dreamed-of 
School  of  Philosophy  began  to  take  shape.  Mr. 
Alcott  was  to  be  the  head  of  it  all,  and  the  school, 
a  simple  structure,  was  reared  a  few  years  later  on 
the  grounds  of  Orchard  House.  Here,  each  year, 
for  several  summer  weeks,  the  philosophers  would 
flock,  to  talk  and  speculate.  Mrs.  Cheney  says  of 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  287 

the  school :  "  The  opening  was  a  great  event  to  Mr. 
Alcott.  .  .  .  Louisa  enjoyed  his  gratification  and 
took  pains  to  help  him  reap  full  satisfaction  from 
it.  She  carried  flowers  to  grace  the  opening  meet- 
ing, and  was  friendly  to  his  guests.  .  .  .  She  had 
not  much  faith  in  the  experiment.  Philosophy  was 
associated  in  her  mind  with  early  poverty  and  suf- 
fering, and  she  did  not  feel  its  charms." 

Another  interest  held  her  at  this  time,  as  bits  from 
her  journal  will  show:  "  May  busy  in  London,"  she 
writes,  the  January  after  her  mother's  death. 
"  Very  sad  about  Marmee;  but  it  was  best  not  to 
send  for  her,  and  Marmee  forbade  it,  and  she  has 
some  very  tender  friends  near  her." 

The  sweet  breath  of  this  budding  romance  woke 
Louisa  from  her  first  dull  grief,  for  May  illustrated 
accurately  the  history  of  Amy's  courtship  and  mar- 
riage in  "  Little  Women."  It  was  a  pretty  love 
story;  the  lonely,  homesick  girl,  the  handsome  lover, 
and  Louisa  could  not  help  rejoicing  in  her  happi- 
ness. She  had  long  suspected  the  truth,  for  May 
had  dropped  many  happy  hints  in  her  letters.  Mr. 
Ernest  Nieriker  was  a  young  Swiss  whom  May 
met  in  London,  and  between  the  two  the  romance 
began  at  once.  He  was  very  musical,  and  in  the 
first  sad  days  of  May's  sorrow  his  violin  soothed 
her  grief,  and  his  quick  sympathy  touched  her  heart. 
In  a  short  time  they  became  engaged,  just  as  in  the 
case  of  Amy  and  Laurie,  and  the  letters  home  were 
full  of  this  new-found  happiness.  The  marriage 


288  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

was  very  sudden ;  business  called  Mr.  Nieriker  away 
from  London,  and  they  decided  that  a  hurried  wed- 
ding was  better  than  a  long  separation.  The  sim- 
ple ceremony  took  place  March  22(1,  1878,  and  Lou- 
isa writes : 

"  A  happy  event — May's  marriage  to  Ernest 
Nieriker,  the  '  tender  friend  '  who  has  consoled  her 
for  Marmee's  loss,  as  John  consoled  Nan  for  Beth's. 
He  is  a  Swiss,  handsome,  cultivated,  and  good ;  an 
excellent  family,  living  in  Baden,  and  E.  has  a  good 
business.  May  is  old  enough  to  choose  for  herself, 
and  seems  so  happy  in  the  new  relation  that  we  have 
nothing  to  say  against  it.  ...  Sent  her  a  thousand 
dollars  as  a  gift,  and  all  good  wishes  for  the  new 
life. 

"  April — Happy  letters  from  May,  who  is  enjoy- 
ing life  as  one  can  but  once.  E.  writes  finely  to 
father,  and  is  a  son  to  welcome,  I  am  sure.  May 
sketches,  and  E.  attends  to  his  business  by  day,  and 
both  revel  in  music  in  the  evening,  as  E.  is  a  fine 
violin  player. 

"  How  different  our  lives  are  just  now !  I  so 
lonely,  sad  and  sick;  she  so  happy,  well  and  blest. 
She  always  had  the  cream  of  things,  and  deserved  it. 
My  time  is  yet  to  come  somewhere  else,  when  I 
am  ready  for  it. 

"  Anna  clears  out  the  old  house,  for  we  shall 
never  go  back  to  it ;  it  ceased  to  be  '  home '  when 
Marmee  left  it. 

"  I  dawdle  about,  and  wait  to  see  if  I  am  to  live 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  289 

or  die.  If  I  live,  it  is  for  some  new  work.  I  wonder 
what?  " 

Poor  Louisa !  to  write  like  that  she  must  indeed 
have  been  "  sad  and  lonely,"  and  we  are  reminded 
forcibly  of  poor  Jo  after  Beth's  death.  It  is  a  cry 
from  the  heart,  and  for  the  first  time  in  all  her  busy, 
useful  life,  we  find  ourselves  wondering  if  she  would 
not  have  been  happier  with  a  home,  a  husband,  and 
little  children  of  her  own. 

But  the  spring  drove  the  cobwebs  away,  out-of- 
doors  with  Nature  worked  the  cure,  and  real  hap- 
piness in  May's  happiness  revived  her  spirits.  She 
longed  to  see  May  in  her  pretty  home  at  Mendon, 
and  planned  to  go  there  in  the  fall,  but  gave  up  the 
idea  at  the  last  moment,  as  her  health  was  too  un- 
certain. 

"  Nan  breaks  her  leg,"  she  writes,  "  so  it  is  well 
I  stayed,  as  there  was  no  one  to  take  her  place  but 
me.  Always  a  little  chore  to  be  done." 

By  the  New  Year  (1879),  she  was  so  improved 
that  she  was  able  to  go  to  Boston  for  a  short  time, 
and  while  there  got  two  books  well  started ;  she  was 
able  also  to  mingle  a  little  with  the  life  about  her, 
but  in  February  she  writes : 

"  Home  to  Concord — rather  used  up.  Find  a 
very  quiet  life  is  best;  for  in  Boston  people  beset  me 
to  do  things  [such  as  Jarley's  Wax  Works  for  a 
fair]  and  I  try,  and  get  so  tired  I  cannot  work.  Dr. 
C.  says  rest  is  my  salvation;  so  I  rest.  Hope  for 
Paris  in  the  spring,  as  May  begs  me  to  come.  She 


290  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

is  leading  what  she  calls  '  an  ideal  life/  painting, 
music,  love,  and  the  world  shut  out.  People  wonder 
and  gossip,  but  May  and  Ernest  laugh  and  are 
happy.  Wise  people  to  enjoy  this  lovely  time!  " 

She  writes  of  a  dinner  given  by  the  Papyrus 
Club,  at  the  Revere  House,  where  she  was  one  of 
the  guests  of  honor.  Dr.  Holmes  took  her  in;  to 
her  surprise  she  found  herself  the  specially  honored 
one,  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  the  president. 

"  Dr.  Holmes  was  very  gallant,"  she  writes. 
"  '  Little  Women  '  often  toasted,  with  more  praise 
than  was  good  for  me. 

"  Saw  Mrs.  B.  at  a  lunch,  and  took  her  and  Mrs. 
Dodge  to  Concord  for  a  lunch.  Most  agreeable 
women. 

"  Pleasant  times  with  my  *  rainy-day  friend,'  as 
I  call  Dr.  W.  She  is  a  great  comfort  to  me,  with 
her  healthy  common-sense,  and  tender  patience, 
aside  from  skill  as  a  doctor,  and  beauty  as  a  woman. 
I  love  her  much,  and  she  does  me  good." 

But  the  poor  nerves  ached  during  April,  May, 
and  June. 

"  Very  poorly  and  cross ;  so  tired  of  being  a  pris- 
oner to  pain.  Long  for  the  old  strength,  when  I 
could  do  what  I  liked,  and  never  knew  I  had  a 
body.  Life  not  worth  living  this  way;  but  having 
overworked  the  wonderful  machine,  I  must  pay  for 
it,  and  should  not  growl,  I  suppose,  as  it  is  just." 

In  August,  she  took  a  new  "  Scrap-Bag  "  book 
to  Boston,  a  collection  of  tales  headed  by  "  Jimmie's 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  291 

Cruise  on  the  Pinafore."  In  September,  she  came 
home  from  the  seaside,  much  refreshed,  and  ready 
for  work  on  a  new  serial  for  St.  Nicholas,  "  Jack 
and  Jill." 

"  Have  no  plan  yet,"  she  writes,  "  but  a  boy,  a 
girl,  and  a  sled,  with  an  upset  to  start  with.  Vague 
idea  of  working  in  Concord  young  folks  and  their 
doings.  After  two  years  of  rest  I  am  going  to  try 
again;  it  is  so  easy  to  make  money  now,  and  so 
pleasant  to  have  it  to  give.  A  chapter  a  day  is  my 
task,  and  not  that,  if  I  feel  tired.  No  more  four- 
teen hours  a  day ;  make  haste  slowly  now. 

"  May  sent  some  nice  little  letters  of  an  '  Artist's 
Holiday,'  and  I  had  them  printed;  also  a  book  for 
artists  abroad — very  useful  and  well  done." 

"  October  8th — Dear  Marmee's  birthday.  Never 
forgotten.  Lovely  day.  Go  to  Sleepy  Hollow  with 
flowers.  Her  grave  is  green ;  blackberry  vines  with 
red  leaves  trail  over  it.  A  little  white  stone  with 
her  initials  is  at  the  head,  and  among  the  tall  grasses 
over  her  breast  a  little  bird  had  made  a  nest ;  empty 
now,  but  a  pretty  symbol  of  the  refuge  that  tender 
bosom  always  was  for  all  feeble  and  sweet  things. 
Her  favorite  asters  bloomed  all  about,  and  the  pines 
sang  overhead.  So  she  and  dear  Beth  are  quietly 
asleep  in  God's  Acre,  and  we  remember  them  more 
tenderly  each  year  that  brings  us  nearer  them  and 
home." 

"  Jack  and  Jill  "  created  a  stir  in  Concord  when 
it  became  known  Miss  Alcott  was  drawing  the 


292  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

youngsters  of  the  town.  All  were  interested,  all 
wanted  to  "  go  in,"  and  all  wanted  to  be  angels. 
A  difficult  task  to  place  them,  but  she  enjoyed  it 
and  did  the  best  she  could. 

She  found  that  her  stories  were  accomplishing 
another  mission,  that  their  simplicity  and  sweetness 
had  power  to  touch  hardened  hearts,  and  glad  al- 
ways to  give  the  best  she  had  to  those  who  needed 
it,  she  went  to  the  Men's  Prison  in  Concord  with 
her  father,  where  she  was  heartily  welcomed  and 
her  stories  found  eager  listeners,  and  later  she  drove 
to  the  Woman's  Prison  at  Sherburne,  where  she 
read  a  story  to  four  hundred  women,  who  doubtless 
blessed  this  gracious  sister  as  she  went  among  them, 
listening  to  their  own  pitiful  tales. 

Several  years  after,  a  young  man  came  to  see  her. 
He  was  just  out  of  the  old  Concord  Prison,  and  he 
wanted  to  thank  her  for  the  little  story  she  had  told 
during  her  visit.  It  had  put  new  heart  into  him,  for 
his  offense  had  been  but  slight — a  theft  committed 
while  drunk — and  after  his  three  years'  sentence 
he  had  come  out  eager  to  atone  for  this  one  fault. 
As  usual,  Miss  Alcott  helped  him  by  word  and  deed, 
her  heart  warmed  and  touched  by  the  man's  earnest- 
ness. 

On  the  8th  of  November,  little  Miss  Louisa  May 
Nieriker  came  smiling  into  the  world,  and  made  all 
hearts  glad.  There  was  great  rejoicing  in  the 
Alcott  household,  while  in  the  little  nest  across  the 
water  a  strange  hush  brooded.  Joy  in  the  new- 


MORE  LITERARY  CHILDREN.  293 

comer  was  swallowed  up  in  anxiety  for  her  mother. 
May  did  not  improve  as  rapidly  as  they  had  hoped, 
and,  in  December,  Louisa  writes : 

"  May  not  doing  well.  The  weight  on  my  heart 
was  not  all  imagination.  She  was  too  happy  to 
have  it  last,  and  I  fear  the  end  is  coming.  Hope 
it  is  my  nerves;  but  this  peculiar  feeling  has  never 
misled  me  before." 

And  surely  it  did  not  fail  her  now;  the  bright, 
joyous  life  went  out  with  the  old  year  on  the  29th. 
The  sad  news  reached  home  on  the  3ist. 

"  A  dark  day  for  us,"  writes  Louisa.  "  A  tele- 
gram from  Ernest  to  Mr.  Emerson  tells  us  *  May 
is  dead/  " 

Louisa  was  alone  when  their  kind  friend  came  to 
break  the  news.  Anna  had  gone  to  Boston,  Mr. 
Alcott  was  at  the  post-office  anxiously  awaiting  let- 
ters which  were  overdue.  But  the  philosopher  had 
no  words  to  ease  the  force  of  the  blow. 

"  My  child,  I  wish  I  could  prepare  you,"  he 
faltered,  and  then  Louisa  knew,  and  something  in 
her  heart  seemed  to  break,  as  it  had  never  done 
before. 

"  The  dear  baby  may  comfort  Ernest,"  she  writes, 
"  but  what  can  comfort  us  ?  It  is  the  distance  that 
is  so  hard,  and  the  thought  of  so  much  happiness 
ended  so  soon.  '  Two  years  of  perfect  happiness  ' 
May  called  these  married  years.  She  wished  me  to 
have  her  baby  and  her  pictures.  A  very  precious 
legacy.  Rich  payment  for  the  little  I  could  do  for 


294  LOUISA  MAY  ALCOTT. 

her.  I  see  now  why  I  lived — to  care  for  May's 
child,  and  not  leave  Anna  all  alone." 

In  the  darkness  of  her  sorrow,  this  thought  com- 
forted her.  God  had  spared  her  still  to  be  the  staff 
of  the  few  left  behind.  On  January  i,  1880,  she 
writes : 

"  A  sad  day — mourning  for  May.  Of  all  the 
trials  in  my  life,  I  never  felt  any  so  keenly  as  this ; 
perhaps  because  I  am  so  feeble  in  health  that  I 
cannot  bear  it  well.  It  seems  so  hard  to  break  up 
that  happy  little  home,  and  take  May,  just  when  life 
was  richest,  and  leave  me  who  had  done  my  task, 
and  could  well  be  spared." 

Ah,  Louisa,  your  task  is  not  done!  There's  a 
baby  coming  from  across  the  sea  to  brighten  what 
is  left  of  your  life.  There  is  a  father  to  be  cared 
for  in  his  gentle,  helpless  old  age,  and  a  sister  left 
on  whom  to  lavish  a  rich  measure  of  love.  There 
are  thousands  of  children  yet  to  write  for,  and  much 
to  make  life  worth  the  living. 

She  felt  this  like  the  truly  pious  woman  she  was. 
No  matter  how  heavy  her  cross,  she  was  strong 
enough  to  bear  it.  She  had  miles  to  trudge  before 
reaching  her  goal,  so  she  lifted  her  burden  once 
more,  with  the  same  courage  as  in  the  old  childish 
days,  when  the  four  little  sisters  toiled  up  the  hill 
toward  the  Celestial  City. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

NEW    INTERESTS    AND    NEW    FRIENDS. 


truly  mourned  the  death  of 
May  Alcott.  Her  many  attractions  had 
made  her  a  great  favorite,  and  she 
was  a  leading  spirit  in  the  town.  De- 
voted to  her  art,  she  tried  to  form  an  art  center  in 
Concord,  placing  her  time  and  her  studio  at  the  dis- 
posal of  anyone  whose  talent  turned  that  way.  She 
was  specially  kind  to  Daniel  Chester  French,  the 
well-known  sculptor  of  "  The  Minute  Man,"  of 
whose  budding  genius  she  had  great  hopes,  and  it 
was  she  who  gave  him  his  first  modeling  clay.  She 
would  have  been  a  great  artist  had  she  lived,  for 
her  pictures,  even  the  copies,  tell  a  story  of  real 
talent. 

Miss  Alcott  wrote  to  Mrs.  Dodge  : 

"January  20,  1880. 
"  DEAR  MRS.  DODGE  : 

"  I  have  been  so  bowed  down  with  grief  at  the 
loss  of  my  dear  sister,  just  when  our  anxiety  was 
over,  that  I  have  not  had  a  thought  or  care  for  any- 
thing else. 

"The  story  ["Jack  and  Jill"]  is  done;  but  the 
20  295 


296  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

last  chapters  are  not  copied,  and  I  thought  it  best  to 
let  them  lie  till  I  could  give  my  mind  to  the  work. 

"  I  never  get  a  good  chance  to  do  a  story  without 
interruption  of  some  sort.  *  Under  the  Lilacs  '  was 
finished  by  my  mother's  bedside  in  her  last  illness, 
and  this  one,  when  my  heart  was  full  of  care  and 
hope,  and  then  grief  over  poor  May. 

"  I  trust  the  misery  did  not  get  into  the  story ; 
but  I'm  afraid  it  is  not  as  gay  as  I  meant  most  of  it 
to  be.  ... 

"  I  don't  believe  I  shall  come  to  New  York  this 
winter.  May  left  me  her  little  daughter  for  my 
own;  and  if  she  comes  over  soon,  I  shall  be  too  busy 
singing  lullabies  to  one  child  to  write  tales  for 
others,  or  go  anywhere,  even  to  see  my  kind  friends. 

"  A  sweeter  little  romance  has  just  ended  in  Paris 
than  any  I  can  ever  make,  and  the  sad  facts  of  life 
leave  me  no  heart  for  cheerful  fiction. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  L.  M.  ALCOTT." 

In  March,  came  a  box  full  of  mementoes  of  May ; 
her  pictures,  clothes,  ornaments,  and  her  sunny  hair, 
tied  with  blue  ribbon.  It  was  a  'sad  day  for  them, 
full  of  memories  and  tears;  but  even  sad  days  can- 
not last  forever,  and  Louisa's  heart  began  to  turn 
longingly  toward  her  little  namesake  over  the  sea. 
But  prudent  grandmamma  Nieriker  suggested  that 
the  fall  would  be  the  best  time  for  so  young  a  trav- 
eler to  venture  across  the  Atlantic. 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       297 

This  was  a  hope  to  build  on,  something  to  look 
forward  to,  and  Louisa  set  to  work  at  once  to  pre- 
pare for  her  baby,  with  all  the  loving  forethought 
of  a  mother.  Little  Lulu  was  to  be  brought  by  her 
Aunt  Sophie,  who  had  promised  May  to  see  her  dar- 
ling safe  with  "  Aunt  Weedy,"  and  Miss  Alcott, 
wishing  to  relieve  her  of  some  of  the  care,  sent  over 
a  responsible  woman  to  help  her.  In  the  meantime 
the  threads  of  work  were  slowly  picked  up,  and  St. 
Nicholas  by  degrees  became  the  chief  market  for 
her  stories.  Her  brain,  active  once  more,  was  full 
of  new  plans  and  ideas;  many  of  these  went  into 
short  stories,  for  as  yet  she  would  not  bind  herself 
to  anything  more. 

"  If  I  write  a  serial,"  she  wrote  Mrs.  Dodge, 
"  you  shall  have  it ;  but  I  have  my  doubts  as  to  the 
leisure  and  quiet,  needed  for  such  tasks,  being  pos- 
sible with  a  year-old  baby.  Of  course  little  Lu  is 
a  very  remarkable  child,  but  I  fancy  I  shall  feel  as 
full  of  responsibility  as  a  hen  with  one  chick,  and 
cluck  and  scratch  industriously  for  the  sole  benefit 
of  my  daughter.  She  may,  however,  have  a  literary 
turn,  and  be  my  assistant,  by  offering  hints  and  giv- 
ing studies  of  character  for  my  work.  She  comes 
in  September,  if  well. 

"  If  I  do  begin  a  new  story,  how  would  '  An  Old- 
Fashioned  Boy '  and  his  life  do?  I  meant  that  for 
the  title  of  a  book,  but  another  woman  took  it.  You 
proposed  a  Revolutionary  tale  once,  but  I  was  not 
up  to  it;  for  this,  I  have  quaint  material  in  my 


298  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

father's  journals,  letters,  and  recollections.  He  was 
born  with  the  century,  and  had  an  uncle  in  the  War 
of  1812;  and  his  life  was  very  pretty  and  pastoral 
in  the  early  days.  I  think  a  new  sort  of  story 
wouldn't  be  amiss,  with  fun  in  it,  and  the  queer  old 
names  and  habits.  I  began  it  long  ago,  and  if  I 
have  a  chance,  will  finish  off  a  few  chapters  and 
send  them  to  you  if  you  like. 

"  Yours  cordially, 

"  L.  M.  ALCOTT." 

It  had  been  a  dream  of  Louisa's  to  build  a  lengthy 
story  around  her  father's  boyhood.  She  always  felt 
that  his  riper  years  had  not  been  appreciated,  and 
she  longed  to  bring  him  before  the  public — as  him- 
self— not  as  the  grandfather  of  "  Little  Women." 
But  after  all,  the  book  was  never  written.  New  in- 
terests came  crowding  into  her  life,  baby  arms  were 
soon  to  be  flung  around  her  neck  demanding  "  more 
towries,  Aunt  Wee-wee,"  and  her  thoughts  went 
back  to  the  stories  that  had  pleased  children  in  the 
bygone  days. 

In  April,  she  was  feeling  so  "  sad  and  poorly  " 
that  she  went  to  Boston  for  a  change,  which  she 
seemed  to  enjoy.  It  was  during  this  visit  that  thirty 
girls  from  Boston  University  called  upon  her.  She 
forgot  her  aches,  told  them  stories,  showed  them 
pictures,  and  wrote  autographs. 

"  Pleasant  to  see  so  much  innocent  enthusiasm, 
even  about  so  poor  a  thing  as  a  used-up  old  woman. 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       299 

Bright  girls!  Simple  in  dress,  sensible  ideas  of  life, 
and  love  of  education.  I  wish  them  all  good  luck." 

May  and  June  were  full  of  varied  interest.  They 
were  now  comfortably  settled  in  Anna's  house,  and 
were  preparing  the  old  Orchard  House  for  its  new 
tenant,  Mr.  W.  T.  Harris.  Louisa  was  never  idle 
when  at  home.  She  writes  about  a  huge  picnic : 

"  North  End  Mission  Children  at  Walden  Pond. 
Help  give  them  a  happy  day — eleven  hundred  of 
them.  Get  Anna  and  John  off  to  Walpole.  Cleaned 
house." 

The  last  item  did  not  mean  that  she  overlooked 
the  servants,  but  that  she  "  turned  in  "  herself,  with 
her  own  capable  hands. 

"  June  24th — Lizzie's  birthday  and  Johnny's.  He 
is  fifteen,  a  lovely,  good  boy,  whom  everyone  loves. 
Got  the  Dean  [her  father's  title  as  head  of  the 
School  of  Philosophy]  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  as  he 
must  be  nice  for  his  duties  at  the  school.  Plato's 
toga  was  not  so  costly,  but  even  he  did  not  look  bet- 
ter than  my  handsome  old  philosopher. 

"July  and  August — To  York  with  boys.  Rest 
and  enjoy  the  fine  air.  Home  in  August,  and  let 
Anna  go  down.  Four  hundred  callers  since  the 
school  began.  .  .  ." 

From  York,  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Niles  about  the  new 
illustrated  edition  of  "  Little  Women  " : 

"  York,  July  20,  1880 — The  drawings  are  all 
capital,  and  we  had  great  fun  over  them  down  here 


300  LOUISA   MAY  ALCOTT. 

this  rainy  day.  .  .  .  Mr.  Merrill  certainly  deserves  a 
good  penny  for  his  work.  Such  a  fertile  fancy  and 
quick  hand  as  his  should  be  well  paid,  and  I  shall 
not  begrudge  him  his  well-earned  compensation,  nor 
the  praise  I  am  sure  these  illustrations  will  earn.  It 
is  very  pleasant  to  think  that  the  lucky  little  story 
has  been  of  use  to  a  fellow-worker,  and  I  am  much 
obliged  to  him  for  so  improving  on  my  hasty  pen- 
and-ink  sketches.  What  a  dear,  rowdy  boy  Teddy 
is,  with  the  felt  basin  on.  ...  Come  and  see  how 
cozy  we  are  next  October,  at  80  Pinckney  Street. 
Miss  N.  will  receive. 

"  Yours  truly,  L.  M.  A." 

"  Got  things  ready  for  my  baby,  warm  wrapper, 
and  all  the  dear  can  need  on  her  long  journey.  On 
the  2ist  saw  Mrs.  Giles  [who  went  for  baby]  off; 
the  last  time  I  went  it  was  to  see  May  go.  She  was 
sober  and  sad,  not  gay  as  before ;  seemed  to  feel  it 
might  be  a  longer  voyage  than  we  knew.  The  last 
view  I  had  of  her  was  standing  alone,  in  the  long 
blue  cloak,  waving  her  hand  to  us,  smiling  with 
wet  eyes  till  out  of  sight.  How  little  we  dreamed 
what  an  experience  of  love,  joy,  pain,  and  death  she 
was  going  to ! 

"  September — Put  papers  in  order,  and  arrange 
things  generally,  to  be  in  order  when  our  Lulu 
comes.  Make  a  cozy  nursery  for  the  darling,  and 
say  my  prayers  over  the  little  white  crib  that  waits 
for  her." 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       301 

On  the  1 8th,  Miss  Alcott  went  to  Boston  to  meet 
the  steamer,  due  on  the  i9th.  She  waited  on  the 
wharf  with  a  full  heart,  watching  for  her  baby,  and 
wondering  if  she  could  pick  her  out  from  among  the 
many  she  saw  coming  off  the  ship.  At  last  the  cap- 
tain appeared,  holding  in  his  arms  a  tiny,  yellow- 
haired  creature,  all  in  white,  who  looked  about  her 
with  lively  blue  eyes,  and  chattered  in  her  baby  way. 
Mrs.  Giles  walked  beside  her,  and  close  behind  came 
Aunt  Sophie,  "  A  lovely,  brown-eyed  girl." 

The  meeting  is  best  described  in  Miss  Alcott's 
own  words : 

"  I  held  out  my  arms  to  Lulu,  only  being  able  to 
say  her  name.  She  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  then 
came  to  me,  saying  '  Marmar '  in  a  wistful  way, 
resting  close,  as  if  she  had  found  her  own  people 
and  home  at  last — as  she  had,  thank  Heaven!  I 
could  only  listen  while  I  held  her,  and  the  others 
told  their  tale.  Then  we  got  home  as  soon  as  we 
could,  and  dear  baby  behaved  very  well,  though 
hungry  and  tired. 

"  The  little  princess  was  received  with  tears  and 
smiles,  and  being  washed  and  fed,  went  quietly  to 
sleep  in  her  new  bed,  while  we  brooded  over  her, 
and  were  never  tired  of  looking  at  the  little  face  of 
'  May's  baby.'  " 

Little  Lulu  quickly  found  her  place  in  the  hearts 
of  the  family.  She  was  not  beautiful  at  first,  but 
she  blossemed  out  wonderfully  when  the  sea  tan  left 
her  face,  and  the  yellow  hair  looked  less  like  the 


302  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

down  of  a  chicken.  "  A  happy  thing,  laughing  and 
waving  her  hands,  confiding  and  bold,  with  a  keen 
look  in  the  eyes  so  like  May,  who  hated  shams, 
and  saw  through  them  at  once.  She  always  conies 
to  me,  and  seems  to  have  decided  that  I  am  really 
'  Marmar.'  My  heart  is  full  of  pride  and  joy,  and 
the  touch  of  the  dear  little  hands  seems  to  take  away 
the  bitterness  of  grief.  I  often  go  at  night  to  see 
if  she  is  really  here,  and  the  sight  of  the  little  head 
is  like  sunshine  to  me.  Father  adores  her,  and  she 
loves  to  sit  in  his  strong  arms.  They  make  a  pretty 
picture,  as  he  walks  in  the  garden  with  her  to  '  see 
birdies.'  Anna  tends  her  as  she  did  May,  who  was 
her  baby  once,  being  ten  years  younger,  and  we  all 
find  life  easier  to  live,  now  the  baby  has  come." 

The  young  sister-in-law  proved  most  attractive, 
and  as  Concord  was  dull  for  a  girl  who  had  been 
used  to  much  gayety,  Louisa  decided  to  take  a  house 
in  town  for  the  winter,  where  she  and  the  boys 
could  have  a  pleasant  time. 

Her  mind  was  free  to  enjoy  her  baby  and  her  new 
friend,  for  "  Jack  and  Jill  "  supplied  the  needs  of 
her  exacting  young  readers  for  a  time  at  least. 

Only  a  simple  tale,  of  simple  country  life,  sweet 
and  wholesome  as  a  sound  apple.  Her  dedication — 

"  TO  THE  SCHOOLMATES 

Of 
ELLSWORTH  DEVENS, 

whose  lovely  character  will  not  soon  be  forgotten," 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       303 

tells  something  of  the  story,  for  Ed  Devlin  is  surely 
none  other  than  the  lamented  comrade  of  the  Con- 
cord boys  and  girls.  In  Mrs,  Minot  we  have  her  sis- 
ter Anna,  for  Minot  was  a  name  that  took  root  in 
the  Pratt  family,  and  the  two  boys,  Frank  and  Jack, 
were  most  certainly  her  nephews,  Fred  and  John. 

All  their  favorite  nooks  and  out-of-the-way  cor- 
ners she  described  most  vividly. 

To  those  familiar  with  Concord  and  its  neighbor- 
hood, the  story  no  doubt  holds  added  interest.  Mer- 
ry and  Molly  and  Jill  are  such  real  girls,  that  we 
should  like  to  know  their  living  models,  while  Baby 
Boo  was  too  lively  for  a  "  make-believe  "  boy.  Har- 
mony Village  of  course  meant  Concord,  and  the 
tranquil  river,  with  its  wooded  shores  and  distant 
hills,  its  cool,  rippling  breezes  and  its  beautiful  sun- 
sets, has  ever  been  a  favorite  playground  for  the 
young  ones  of  the  village. 

The  tale  grows  grave  in  parts,  owing  to  the 
author's  heavy  heart,  but  in  the  chapter  called  "  A 
Sweet  Memory,"  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of  her 
favorite  Ellsworth  Devens,  we  gather  something  of 
the  simple  beauty  of  Miss  Alcott's  own  creed;  for 
this  may  be  said  of  her,  as  it  can  be  said  of  few, 
she  practiced  as  she  preached,  and  the  same  peace- 
fulness  which  stole  into  the  children's  hearts  after 
the  burial  of  their  friend  was  her  own,  as  she  dried 
her  eyes  and  "  remembered  her  mercies.' 

The  baby  made  her  young,  the  tired  brain  found 
rest  in  planning  infant  tales;  new  plays  had  to  be 


304  LOUISA   MAY  ALCOTT. 

invented,  new  romps  instituted ;  of  course  she  turned 
for  help  to  the  boys,  and  the  new  life  stirred  her 
blood. 

Lulu's  first  birthday  was  a  trying  time,  remem- 
bering what  her  coming  had  cost  them,  but  the 
birthday  ceremonies  were  all  kept.  There  was  a 
cake  with  one  candle,  a  crown  for  the  queen,  a  silver 
mug,  picture  books,  toys,  flowers,  and  plenty  of 
sunshine  for  Baby  Lu. 

The  next  years  passed  uneventfully;  playing 
mother  was  great  fun,  and  in  bringing  up  the  little 
girl,  Louisa  used  many  of  the  methods  which  had 
proved  so  successful  with  herself  and  her  sisters. 
Her  old  cheerfulness  gradually  came  back  to  her, 
and  though  her  days  revolved  about  her  child,  they 
were  happy  days.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend  she  writes 
of  Lulu :  "  I  wish  you  could  see  the  pretty  creature, 
who  already  shows  many  of  her  mother's  traits  and 
tastes.  Her  love  of  pictures  is  a  passion,  but  she 
will  not  look  at  the  gay  ones  most  babies  enjoy. 
She  chooses  the  delicate,  well-drawn,  and  painted 
figures  of  Caldecott  and  Miss  Greenaway.  Over 
these  she  broods  with  rapture,  pointing  her  little 
fingers  at  the  cows  or  cats,  and  kissing  the  chil- 
dren, with  funny  prattling  to  these  dumb  playmates. 
She  is  a  fine,  tall  girl,  full  of  energy,  intelligence 
and  health;  blonde  and  blue-eyed  like  her  mother, 
but  with  her  father's  features,  for  which  I  am  glad, 
for  he  is  a  handsome  man.  Louisa  May  bids  fair 
to  be  a  noble  woman,  and  I  hope  I  may  live  to  see 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       305 

May's  child  as  brave,  and  bright,  and  talented  as 
she  was,  and  much  happier  in  her  fate." 

On  Lulu's  second  birthday,  she  had  two  kisses,  a 
cake  with  two  candles,  a  new  chair  and  a  doll's  car- 
riage, toys,  pictures,  and  flowers.  She  was  escorted 
downstairs  in  state,  and  petted  and  purred  over  all 
day.  She  was  a  sweet,  generous  child,  with  strong 
affections.  On  one  occasion  a  poor  woman  from 
Illinois  wrote  Miss  Alcott,  begging  her  to  send  some 
Christmas  gifts  to  her  children,  as  she  could  not 
afford  to  buy  any.  They  had  asked  her  to  write 
to  Santa  Claus,  and  so  she  applied  to  Miss  Alcott, 
who  sent  a  box,  and  wrote  a  story  about  it;  little 
Lulu  was  much  interested  and  wanted  to  give  every- 
thing she  had  to  "  poor  little  boys." 

Quite  early  the  young  lady  learned  where  flowed 
the  story-telling  fountain,  and  "Aunt  Wee-wee" 
was  taxed  sometimes  a  dozen  a  day.  Anything 
about  lambs,  piggies,  and  "  tats  "  was  immensely 
enjoyed,  and  certainly  the  big  aunt  and  little  niece 
had  many  interesting  times  together. 

In  April,  1882,  Mr.  Emerson  was  ill,  and  Mr. 
Alcott  went  to  see  him.  Emerson  had  been  the  sun- 
shine of  his  life  for  many  years,  he  had  believed  in 
him  when  others  had  only  laughed ;  he  had  helped 
him  in  his  need,  in  a  hundred  gentle,  quiet  ways,  and 
had  been  to  them  all  the  kindest  and  truest  of 
friends.  Now  the  useful  life  was  coming  to  an  end, 
and  there  was  deep  sorrow  in  Concord.  On  April 
27th,  Louisa  writes  in  her  journal : 


306  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

"Mr.  Emerson  died  at  9  P.M.  suddenly.  Our 
best  and  greatest  American  gone.  The  nearest  and 
dearest  friend  father  ever  had,  and  the  man  who  has 
helped  me  most,  by  his  life,  his  books,  his  society. 
I  can  never  tell  all  he  has  been  to  me,  from  the  time 
I  sang  Mignon's  song  under  his  window  (a  little 
girl) — and  wrote  letters,  a  la  Bettine,  to  him,  my 
Goethe,  at  fifteen,  up  through  my  hard  years  when 
his  essays  on  Self-Reliance,  Character,  Compensa- 
tion, Love,  and  Friendship  helped  me  to  understand 
myself,  and  Life,  and  God,  and  Nature.  Illustrious 
and  beloved  friend,  good-by! 

"  Sunday,  joth — Emerson's  funeral.  I  made  a 
yellow  lyre  of  jonquils  for  the  church,  and  helped 
trim  it  up.  Private  services  at  the  house,  and  a 
great  crowd  at  the  church.  Father  read  his  sonnet, 
and  Judge  Hoar  and  others  spoke.  Now  he  lies  in 
Sleepy  Hollow — among  his  brothers,  under  the 
pines  he  loved." 

Louisa  sat  up  till  midnight  writing  an  article  on 
Emerson,  for  The  Youth's  Companion,  that  the  chil- 
dren might  know  something  of  him,  and  the  power 
he  was  in  the  world. 

From  time  to  time,  she  has  put  her  memory  of 
him  into  articles  for  different  periodicals.  There 
was  no  halfway  admiration  for  this  great  thinker ;  he 
had  been  her  idol  from  the  time  she  first  grasped 
what  greatness  really  was,  until  the  brilliant  light 
went  out  forever.  Naturally  she  used  his  name  and 
example  in  making  Concord  a  temperance  town, 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       307 

for  in  May,  twenty-seven  boys  signed  the  pledge. 
The  reform  was  much  needed  there,  and  Louisa 
worked  for  the  cause  with  all  her  old  energy. 

In  June,  she  paid  a  sad  little  visit  to  Alice  Bartlett, 
their  companion  on  the  trip  abroad.  "  A  queer 
time,"  she  writes,  "  driving  about,  or  talking  over 
our  year  in  Europe.  School  children  called  upon 
me,  with  flowers,  and  so  forth. 

"  June  24th — John's  seventeenth  birthday.  A 
dear  boy,  good  and  gay,  full  of  love,  manliness,  and 
all  honest  and  lovely  traits,  like  his  father  and 
mother.  Long  life  to  my  boy !  " 

In  July,  the  School  of  Philosophy  opened  in  full 
force.  "  The  first  year,"  writes  Miss  Alcott,  "  Con- 
cord people  stood  aloof,  and  the  strangers  found  it 
hard  to  get  rooms.  Now  everyone  is  eager  to  take 
them,  and  the  school  is  pronounced  a  success,  be- 
cause it  brings  money  to  the  town.  Even  philos- 
ophers can't  do  without  food,  beds,  and  washing,  so 
all  rejoice,  and  the  new  craze  flourishes.  If  all  our 
guests  paid  we  should  be  well  off;  several  hundred 
a  month  is  rather  wearing.  Father  asked  why  we 
never  went,  and  Anna  showed  him  a  long  list  of 
four  hundred  names  of  callers,  and  he  said  no 
more." 

In  October,  she  went  to  Boston  with  John,  for  a 
short  stay,  leaving  Lulu  at  home;  she  needed  the 
quiet,  though  she  missed  her  baby.  She  took  rooms 
at  the  Bellevue,  her  haven  of  rest,  and  she  began  to 
think  of  stories  once  more.  Mrs.  Dodge  wanted  a 


308  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

serial,  and  "  Jo's  Boys  "  suggested  itself  to  her 
mind.  She  had  scarcely  made  a  good  beginning, 
however,  when  a  telegram  called  her  home.  Mr. 
Alcott  had  a  paralytic  stroke,  which  left  him  dumb 
and  helpless.  The  change  in  the  life  of  the  active 
old  man  was  very  pathetic,  and  his.  family  became 
anxious  about  him.  His  daughter  writes: 

"  The  forty  sonnets  of  last  winter,  and  the  fifty 
lectures  at  the  school  last  summer,  were  too  much 
for  a  man  of  eighty-three.  He  was  warned  by  Dr. 
W.,  but  thought  it  folly  to  stop;  and  now  poor 
Father  pays  the  penalty  of  breaking  the  laws  of 
health.  I  have  done  the  same ;  may  I  be  spared  this 
end!" 

It  was  a  strange  thing  about  Louisa  and  her 
work;  given  a  quiet,  even  stretch,  with  no  care  nor 
worry,  her  fancy  flowed  tranquilly,  and  the  results 
were  not  noticed ;  but  a  serious  illness  always  acted 
as  a  mental  spur.  It  was  her  time  for  story-telling, 
for,  as  we  well  know,  her  best  tales  were  written 
under  high  pressure.  Her  father's  slow  improve- 
ment gave  her  an  opportunity  to  slip  away  to  Boston 
once  in  a  while,  and  on  one  of  these  trips  she  began 
a  book  called  "  Genius." 

"  Shall  never  finish  it,  I  dare  say,  but  must  keep 
a  vent  for  my  fancies  to  escape  at.  This  double  life 
is  trying,  and  my  head  will  work  as  well  as  my 
hands." 

She  took  Lulu  to  Boston  for  a  month,  to  the  little 
girl's  delight,  for  Boston  was  a  new  world  to  her, 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       309 

and  she  enjoyed  the  walks  and  the  petting  she  got 
from  everyone. 

On  April  6th,  she  went  home  to  stay ;  her  father 
needed  her,  and  the  housekeeping  was  too  heavy  a 
burden  for  Anna  alone.  She  wrote  a  story  for  St. 
Nicholas  at  odd  moments,  and  during  that  summer 
took  care  of  Lulu,  for  a  competent  nurse  was  hard 
to  find,  "  so  my  poor  baby  has  a  bad  time,  with  her 
little  temper  and  active  mind  and  body.  Could  do  it 
myself  if  I  had  the  nerves  and  strength,  but  am 
needed  elsewhere,  and  must  leave  the  child  to  some 
one.  Long  to  go  away  with  her  and  do  as  I  like. 
Shall  never  lead  my  own  life." 

"  July — Go  to  Nonquitt  with  Miss  H.  and  Lulu 
for  the  summer.  A  quiet,  healthy  place,  with  pleas- 
ant people  and  fine  air.  Turn  Lulu  loose,  with  H. 
to  run  after  her,  and  try  to  rest. 

"  Lulu  takes  her  first  bath  in  the  sea — very  bad ; 
walks  off  toward  Europe  up  to  her  neck,  and  is 
much  afflicted  that  I  won't  let  her  go  to  the  bottom 
and  see  the  '  little  trabs  ' ;  makes  a  cupid  of  herself 
and  is  very  pretty  and  gay.  The  boys  revel  in  the 
simple  pleasures  of  Nonquitt — a  fine  place  for  them 
to  be  in." 

Hereafter,  Nonquitt  was  to  them  all  a  haven  of 
delight.  Louisa  was  persuaded  to  buy  a  home  there, 
and  as  the  place  was  swarming  with  young  people, 
she  was  in  her  element,  and  never  happier  than  when 
among  them.  The  days  were  spent  on  the  beach, 
watching  the  bathers  and  sunning  herself  in  the 


310  LOUISA    MAY   ALCOTT. 

sands.  The  evenings  were  gay  with  charades  and 
private  theatricals.  The  two  boys  had  the  family 
talent,  Fred  in  particular  being  an  excellent  come- 
dian, and  though  Louisa's  acting  was  a  thing  of 
the  past,  on  account  of  the  exertion,  Anna  occasion- 
ally took  old  women's  parts,  and  the  youngsters 
came  in  for  a  fine  drilling.  And  here  her  eldest 
nephew  had  his  first  sip  of  a  real  romance,  which 
blossomed  later  into  true  love  and  a  happy  marriage. 
Miss  Alcott  writes  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Williams,  of 
Nonquitt  and  its  charms : 

"...  My  poppet  is  a  picture  of  health,  vigor, 
and  delightful  naughtiness.  She  runs  wild  in  this 
fine  place,  with  some  twenty  other  children  to  play 
with,  nice  babies,  well  bred,  with  pleasant  mammas 
for  me  to  gossip  with. 

"  It  would  be  a  pleasant  place  for  your  little  peo- 
ple, as  the  air  is  delicious,  bathing  safe  and  warm, 
and  cottages  to  be  quiet  in,  if  one  cares  to  keep 
house.  Do  try  it  next  year.  Let  me  know  early. 
I  can  get  a  nice  little  cot  for  you  (near  mine)  for 
one  hundred  dollars  or  perhaps  less,  from  June  to 
October — if  you  care  to  stay. 

"  We  have  been  here  since  July,  and  are  all 
hearty,  brown,  and  gay  as  larks.  Lulu  has  some 
trifling  ailment  now  and  then — just  enough  to  show 
me  how  dear  she  is  to  us  all,  and  what  a  great  void 
the  loss  of  our  little  girl  would  make  in  hearts  and 
home.  She  is  very  intelligent  and  droll.  When  I 
told  her  the  other  day  that  the  crickets  were  hopping 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       311 

and  singing  in  the  grass  with  their  mammas,  she 
said  at  once :  '  No,  their  Aunt  Weedys.'  Auntie  is 
nearer  than  Mother  to  the  poor  baby  and  it  is  very 
sweet  to  have  it  so,  since  it  must  be." 


"  The  older  birthdays  are  2Qth  of  November, 
Lulu's  the  8th ;  so  we  celebrate  for  Grandpa,  Auntie, 
and  Lulu  all  at  once,  in  great  style — eighty-three, 
fifty,  and  three  years  old. 

"  When  I  get  on  my  pins,  I  am  going  to  devote 
myself  to  settling  poor  souls  who  need  a  gentle 
boost  in  hard  times." 

The  history  of  the  next  few  years  is  pleasant  and 
tranquil.  Mr.  Alcott  slowly  rallied  from  his  first 
attack,  and  Louisa  spent  her  time  between  Concord 
and  Boston,  sometimes  feeling  like  her  old  self, 
sometimes  so  weary  and  nervous,  that  it  took  all 
her  courage  to  get  along.  John  and  Lulu  were 
her  stand-bys  at  such  times ;  the  boy  so  tender  and 
strong  to  lean  upon,  the  little  girl  so  sweet  and 
winning.  Miss  Alcott  did  not  believe  in  hard  meas- 
ures with  children,  but  in  January,  1884,  she  writes : 
"  New  Year  Day  is  made  memorable  by  my 
solemnly  spanking  my  child.  Miss  C.  [her  gover- 
ness] and  others  assure  me  it  is  the  only  way  to 
cure  her  wilfulness.  I  doubt  it;  but  knowing  that 
mothers  are  usually  too  tender  and  blind,  I  correct 
my  dear  in  the  old-fashioned  way.  She  proudly 
says :  '  Do  it,  do  it/  and  when  it  is  done,  is  heart- 
21  • 


312  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

broken  at  the  idea  of  Aunt  Wee-wee's  giving  her 
pain.  Her  bewilderment  is  pathetic,  and  the  effect, 
as  I  expected,  a  failure.  Love  is  better,  but  also 
endless  patience." 

The  history  of  her  work  is  very  fitful.  "  Jo's 
Boys  "  was  still  in  progress,  as  it  was  destined  to  be 
for  some  years,  for  the  tired,  overworked  brain 
could  not  stand  much.  She  busied  herself  with  short 
stories  for  St.  Nicholas,  and  collecting  the  many  she 
had  on  hand  into  book  form.  The  best  known  of 
these  story-books  compiled  at  that  time  are  "  Spin- 
ning-Wheel  Stories"  and  "Proverb  Stories."  "Lu- 
lu's Library "  came  later,  and  a  "  Garland  for 
Girls  "  the  last  of  all.  Concerning  the  "  Spinning- 
Wheel  Stories,"  she  wrote  Mrs.  Dodge : 

"  I  like  the  idea  of  "  Spinning- Wheel  Stories," 
and  can  do  several  for  a  series,  which  can  come  out 
in  a  book  later.  Old-time  tales,  with  a  thread  run- 
ning through  all,  from  the  wheel  that  enters  in  the 
first  one. 

"  A  Christmas  party  of  children  might  be  at  an 
old  farmhouse,  and  hunt  up  the  wheel,  and  grandma 
spins  and  tells  the  first  story ;  and  being  snow-bound, 
others  amuse  the  young  folks  each  evening  with 
more  tales.  .  .  . 

"  Be.ing  at  home  and  quiet  for  a  week  or  so,  ... 
I  have  begun  the  serial,  and  done  two  chapters ;  but 
the  Spinning  tales  come  tumbling  into  my  mind  so 
fast,  I'd  better  pin  a  few  while  '  genius  burns.'  Per- 
haps you  would  like  to  start  the  set  Christmas.  The 


NEW  INTERESTS  AND  NEW  FRIENDS.       313 

picture  being  ready,  the  first  story  can  be  done  in  a 
week.    '  Sophie's  Secret '  can  come  later. 

"  The  serial  was  to  be  '  Mrs.  Gay's  Summer 
School,'  and  have  some  city  girls  and  boys  go  to  an 
old  farmhouse,  and,  for  fun,  dress  and  live  as  in 
old  times,  and  learn  the  good,  thrifty,  old  ways,  with 
adventures  and  fun  thrown  in.  That  might  come 
in  the  spring  as  it  takes  me  longer  to  grind  yarns 
now  than  of  old. 

"Glad  you  are  better.  Thanks  for  the  kind 
wishes  for  the  little  house;  come  and  see  it,  and 
gladden  the  eyes  of  forty  young  admirers  by  a  sight 
of  M.M.D.  next  year." 

In  another  letter,  headed  31  Chestnut  Street, 
December  3ist,  she  writes:  "A  little  cousin,  thir- 
teen years  old,  has  written  a  story  and  longs  to  see 
it  in  print.  It  is  a  well-written  bit,  and  pretty  good 
for  a  beginner,  so  I  send  it  to  you,  hoping  it  may 
find  a  place  in  the  children's  corner.  She  is  a  grand- 
child of  S.  J.  May,  and  a  bright  lass,  who  paints 
nicely,  and  is  a  domestic  little  person  in  spite  of  her 
budding  accomplishments.  Good  luck  to  her. 

"  I  hoped  to  have  a  Christmas  story  for  someone, 
but  am  forbidden  to  write  for  six  months,  after  a 
bad  turn  of  vertigo.    So  I  give  it  up  and  take  warn- 
ing.   All  good  wishes  for  the  New  Year. 
"  From  yours  affectionately, 

"  L.  M.  ALCOTT." 

After  this  Miss  Alcott  was  more  or  less  under  the 


314  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

doctor's  orders.  In  another  letter  to  Mrs.  Dodge, 
she  says: 

"  I  cannot  promise  anything,  but  hope  to  be  al- 
lowed to  write  a  little,  as  my  doctor  has  decided  that 
it  is  as  well  to  let  me  put  on  paper  the  tales  '  knock- 
ing at  the  saucepan  lid  and  demanding  to  be  taken 
out '  (like  Mrs,  Crotchet's  potatoes)  as  to  have  them 
go  on  worrying  me  inside.  So  I'm  scribbling  at 
'  Jo's  Boys ' — long  promised  to  Mr.  Niles,  and 
clamored  for  by  the  children.  I  may  write  but  one 
hour  a  day,  so  cannot  get  on  very  fast;  but  if  it 
is  ever  done,  I  can  think  of  a  serial  for  St.  Nicholas, 
and  can  easily  start  it  for  '88,  if  head  and  hand 
allow.  I  will  simmer  on  it  this  summer,  and  see  if 
it  can  be  done.  Hope  so,  for  I  don't  want  to  give 
up  work  so  soon." 

Poor  Louisa!  in  harness  to  the  last!  Her  work 
had  become  as  dear  to  her  heart  as  if  it  were  her 
own  flesh  and  blood ;  to  give  it  up  would  be  like 
yielding  a  part  of  her  life.  She  was  not  an  old 
woman;  with  health  she  would  have  been  in  her 
prime,  with  a  brain  as  strong  and  energetic  and  far 
better  stored  than  in  the  old  days  of  "  pot-boilers  " 
and  scanty  pay.  But  the  engine  panted  even  on  the 
level  grade,  and  the  reckless  engineer  had  to  slacken 
speed,  and  yield  the  throttle  into  other  hands. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

A    LOVING    MEMORY. 

!HE  next  few  years  were  records  of  wan- 
ing strength,  care  for  her  father,  delight 
in  the  little  girl,  clinging  to  the  one  sister 
left  her,  and  joy  and  pride  in  "  the  boys." 
They  were  young  men  now,  and  a  great  comfort. 
John  she  decided  to  adopt.  She  knew  that,  with 
herself  and  her  father,  the  Alcott  name  would  die 
out,  and  in  making  John  her  legal  "  son  and  heir  " 
it  was  with  the  stipulation  that  he  should  take  the 
name  of  Alcott. 

After  years  of  struggle  with  ill-health,  "  Jo's 
Boys,"  her  last  promise  to  the  eager  public,  saw  the 
light.  In  reading  the  book,  so  full  of  memories, 
we  truly  begin  to  realize  that  nearly  twenty  years 
had  passed  since  the  publication  of  "  Little  Women," 
and  that  the  young  people  who  pored  over  those 
fascinating  pages  were  now  grave  men  and  women, 
bending  their  heads  in  absorbed  interest  over  "  Jo's 
Boys." 

Her  preface  is  pathetic  when  we  look  back  on  the 
pages  of  her  life : 

"  Having  been  written  at  long  intervals  during  the 
315 


316  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

past  seven  years,  this  story  is  more  faulty  than  its 
predecessors,  but  the  desire  to  atone  for  an  unavoid- 
able disappointment,  and  to  please  my  patient  little 
friends,  has  urged  me  to  let  it  go  without  delay. 

"  To  account  for  the  seeming  neglect  of  Amy,  let 
me  add,  that  since  the  original  of  the  character  died, 
it  has  been  impossible  for  me  to  write  of  her,  as 
when  she  was  here  to  suggest,  criticise,  and  laugh 
over  her  namesake.  The  same  excuse  applies  to 
Marmee.  But  the  folded  leaves  are  not  blank  to 
those  who  knew  and -loved  them,  and  can  find  me- 
morials of  them  in  whatever  is  cheerful,  true,  or 
helpful  in  these  pages." 

The  story  was  completed  at  her  sister's  home  in 
Concord.  The  old  house  had  grown  into  a  most  at- 
tractive dwelling,  its  yellow  tint  standing  out  clear 
cut  amid  the  evergreens  surrounding  it.  Miss 
Alcott  had  improved  it  from  time  to  time,  until 
Thoreau  himself  would  scarcely  have  recognized  its 
interior. 

Mr.  Alcott's  library,  which  had  been  one  of  the 
additions,  was  built  back  of  the  drawing-room,  and 
was  a  most  delightful  place,  with  its  low  ceilings, 
well-lined  bookshelves,  and  interesting  mementoes 
of  the  family.  Just  above  the  library  was  Louisa's 
special  sanctum,  a  large  sunny  room  overlooking  the 
beloved  river,  with  its  background  of  hills.  Each 
window  framed  a  beautiful  picture,  and  safe  in  this 
retreat,  the  literary  spider  could  spin  her  web  un- 
disturbed, and  here  "  Jo's  Boys  "  rounded  itself  out 


A  LOVING  MEMORY. 


317 


to  the  desired  end.  She  winds  up  the  story  in  this 
fashion : 

"And  now  having  endeavored  to  suit  everyone 
by  many  weddings,  few  deaths,  and  as  much  pros- 
perity as  the  eternal  fitness  of  things  will  permit,  let 
the  music  stop,  the  lights  die  out,  and  the  curtain 
fall  forever  on  the  March  family." 

This  was  sadly  prophetic ;  with  the  completion  of 
"Jo's  Boys,"  her  real  work  ended.  There  were 
short  stories  now  and  then,  "  A  Garland  for  Girls  " 
being  written  as  a  pastime  while  under  the  doctor's 
care.  In  the  writing  of  "Jo's  Boys,"  the  usual 
"  vortex "  threatened,  but  an  attack  of  vertigo 
frightened  her  into  a  week's  illness,  with  sleepless 
nights.  "  Head  worked  like  a  steam  engine,"  she 
writes,  "  would  not  stop.  Planned  *  Jo's  Boys  '  to 
the  end,  and  longed  to  get  up  and  write  it.  Told 
Dr.  W.  that  he  had  better  let  me  get  the  idea  out, 
then  I  could  rest.  He  very  wisely  agreed,  and  said : 
'  As  soon  as  you  can,  write  half  an  hour  a  day  and 
see  if  it  does  you  good.  Rebellious  brains  want  to 
be  attended  to,  or  trouble  comes.'  So  I  began  as 
soon  as  able,  and  was  satisfied  we  were  right,  for 
my  head  felt  better  very  soon,  and  with  much  care 
about  not  overdoing,  I  had  some  pleasant  hours 
when  I  forgot  my  body  and  lived  in  my  mind." 

After  that,  she  wrote  one  or  two  hours  a  day  and 
felt  no  ill  effects.  During  the  winter  of  1886,  Miss 
Alcott  took  a  furnished  house  in  Boston.  It  was 
delightfully  situated  in  Louisburg  Square,  and  all 


318  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

were  pleased  with  the  arrangement.  Anna  could  be 
near  her  boys,  who  were  in  business,  Louisa  could 
have  her  child  and  work  as  well,  and  poor,  feeble 
Mr.  Alcott  would  enjoy  the  change. 

Whenever  there  was  a  move — and  the  Alcott 
family  could  never  stay  on  and  on  in  the  same  place 
— the  rummaging  spirit  came  upon  Louisa.  This 
time  it  took  the  form  of  sorting  and  burning  letters 
too  private  for  the  gossip  lovers  to  print.  This  was 
not  good  for  her ;  for  days  she  lived  over  her  past — 
they  were  only  simple  annals,  to  be  sure,  a  mingling 
of  dead  rose  leaves  with  the  scent  of  lavender — 
but  these  old  memories  stayed  her  hand,  and  she  be- 
gan to  think  that  it  might  be  well  to  keep  some  rec- 
ord of  her  life,  that  others  might  read  and  profit  by 
her  experience.  It  was  this  kindly  thought  for  the 
coming  generations  that  gave  to  the  lovers  of  her 
books  a  closer  view  of  the  author.  So  we  see  her 
first  impulse  was  to  destroy  all  record  of  herself; 
but,  living  for  others  as  she  had  done  all  her  life, 
she  paused  in  time. 

The  portraits  in  "  Jo's  Boys  "  are  very  lifelike. 
Jo  has  grown  older,  but  like  Louisa  herself,  never 
too  old  to  be  a  girl  at  heart ;  Meg  mellowed  with 
the  years  into  a  sweet  and  tender  matron ;  the  boys 
and  girls  had  all  grown  up,  fulfilling  their  separate 
destinies  in  their  own  way,  and  her  pet  black  sheep, 
the  untamable  Dan,  worked  his  own  salvation  in 
the  end. 

Even  the  School  of  Philosophy  had  its  portrait 


A  LOVING  MEMORY.  319 

painted  in  a  flattering  way,  for  it  rose  as  a  college 
on  the  hilltop,  and  Mr.  Bhaer,  as  president,  and  Mr. 
March,  as  chaplain,  lived  to  see  their  long-cherished 
dream  beautifully  realized.  Perhaps  the  picture  of 
Nan  is  the  most  vivid,  for  that  restless  young  per- 
son had  many  of  Louisa's  own  traits,  and  certainly 
the  free  and  independent  life  Nan  led  would  have 
been  her  own  portion,  had  she  been  able  to  choose. 
But  we  miss  "  Marmee,"  and  the  shadowy  outlines 
of  Mrs.  Amy  makes  her  figure  seem  unreal.  For  the 
rest,  our  "  little  men  "  grown  up  are  most  satis- 
factory, and,  needless  to  say,  the  fifty  thousand  of 
the  first  edition  sold  fast.  In  spite  of  this,  her  own 
opinion  of  "  Jo's  Boys  "  was  not  favorable.  Her 
best  work  was  always  done  at  top  speed.  In  her 
days  of  comparative  health  such  a  task  could  have 
been  accomplished  in  a  month  at  most,  but  creep- 
ing along  as  she  did,  with  long  intervals  between  the 
parts,  made,  to  her  own  thinking,  a  most  unsatisfac- 
tory result.  The  only  illustration  in  the  book  is  the 
bas-relief  of  her  own  head,  taken  from  the  sculp- 
tured piece  by  Walter  Ricketson,  a  young  artist,  to 
whom  she  had  been  much  help.  She  says  in  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Niles : 

"  Sorry  you  don't  like  the  bas-relief ;  I  do.  A 
portrait,  if  bright  and  comely,  wouldn't  be  me,  and 
if  like  me,  would  disappoint  the  children;  so  we 
had  better  let  them  imagine  'Aunt  Jo  young  and 
beautiful,  with  her  hair  in  two  tails  down  her  back  ' ; 
as  the  little  girl  said."  The  little  girl  she  refers  to 


320  LOUISA    MAY   ALCOTT. 

was  a  young  Southerner,  who  visited  Boston  soon 
after  the  publication  of  "  Little  Women."  She  was 
taken  to  Concord  on  a  special  pilgrimage  to  see  the 
author,  and  breathlessly  waited  for  her  idol.  When 
she  saw  her  she  burst  into  tears  of  disappointment, 
and  would  not  be  comforted. 

Her  mind  now  hovered  between  a  novel  for  Mr. 
Niles  and  a  serial  for  Mrs.  Dodge.  "  I  have  a  dozen 
plots  in  my  head,"  she  says,  "  but  think  the  serial 
had  better  come  first.  I  want  a  great  deal  of  money 
for  many  things,  and  expenses  increase.  I  am  the 
only  money-maker,  and  must  turn  the  mill  for 
others,  though  my  own  grist  is  ground  and  in  the 
barn." 

Housekeeping  in  town,  anxiety  about  her  father, 
the  coming  and  going  of  so  many  people,  her  own 
unsatisfactory  work,  told  on  the  worn-out  nerves. 
In  the  summer  she  was  back  in  Concord,  near  her 
father,  while  the  others  went  to  the  seashore.  In 
September,  they  were  again  in  the  Boston  house,  but 
in  December,  Louisa  broke  down  completely,  and  it 
was  then  she  put  herself  under  the  care  of  Dr. 
Rhoda  Lawrence,  and  became  an  inmate  of  her  home 
at  Dunreath  Place,  Roxbury,  where,  with  few  inter- 
vals, she  remained  during  the  rest  of  her  life. 

She  was  beginning  to  see  the  disastrous  effects  of 
overwork.  She  had  reached  the  stage  when  even 
the  companionship  of  her  family  wore  upon  her 
nerves.  It  grieved  her  to  be  away  from  her  home 
and  all  she  loved ;  her  father  was  failing  fast  and  she 


A  LOVING  MEMORY.  321 

longed  to  be  to  him  the  loving  nurse  she  had  been 
to  the  others  in  their  need ;  but  the  tired  nerves  could 
not  bear  the  strain,  rest  was  the  only  hope  for  her, 
and  perfect  quiet  could  be  had  at  Dunreath  Place. 

From  that  time  Dr.  Lawrence  became  friend  and 
nurse,  as  well  as  physician,  accompanying  her  pa- 
tient wherever  she  went.  In  the  summer  of  1887, 
she  visited  her  father  in  Melrose;  from  there  she 
went  home  to  Concord  to  look  over  some  papers, 
and  complete  the  plan  for  adopting  her  nephew,  and 
finished  the  season  at  Princeton  (Mass.),  which  she 
enjoyed  with  all  her  old-time  pleasure.  But  a  sud- 
den attack  of  rheumatism  and  vertigo  undid  all  the 
good,  and  she  returned  to  Roxbury  in  a  very  nerv- 
ous state,  the  old  aches  and  pains  of  bygone  years 
springing  up  again  like  menacing  ghosts. 

Louisa  was  too  sensible  a  woman  not  to  know 
how  close  she  was  creeping  to  the  very  margin  of 
life;  yet  she  planned  out  stories  for  years  ahead, 
and  sewed  industriously  for  the  poor,  when  not 
weaving  "  pot-boilers  "  from  force  of  habit.  It  was 
during  this  seclusion  that  she  wrote  "  A  Garland 
for  Girls,"  a  group  of  short  stories  suggested  by 
the  beautiful  flowers  constantly  sent  her.  She 
amused  herself  in  many  ways,  but  saw  no  company. 
She  enjoyed  writing  and  answering  letters,  and 
many  a  youthful  ambition  was  warmed  and  nour- 
ished by  her  kindly  words  of  advice;  from  the 
young  man  who  asked  her  if  she  would  advise  him 
to  devote  himself  to  authorship — as  if  she  could 


322 


LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 


decide  such  a  question — to  the  little  chap  who  sent 
twenty-five  cents  to  buy  her  books.  She  returned 
the  money,  explaining  that  it  was  not  enough,  but 
sent  him  "  Little  Men  "  as  a  present. 

She  was  delighted  over  the  engagement  of  her 
nephew  Fred.  In  a  letter  to  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Bond, 
March  15,  1887,  she  says: 

"  I  have  been  hoping  to  get  out  and  see  you  all 
winter,  but  have  been  so  ill  I  could  only  live  on 
hope,  as  a  relish  to  my  gruel,  that  being  my  only 
food,  and  not  of  a  nature  to  give  me  strength. 
The  spring  days  will  set  me  up,  I  trust,  and  my 
first  pilgrimage  shall  be  to  you;  for  I  want  you  to 
see  how  prettily  my  May-flower  [her  pet  name  for 
May's  child]  is  blossoming  into  a  fine  offshoot  of 
the  old  plant. 

"  Lizzie  Wells  has  probably  told  you  of  our  news 
of  Fred  and  his  little  bride,  and  Anna  has  written 
to  you  about  it,  as  only  a  proud  mamma  can. 

"...  I  was  sorry  to  hear  that  you  were  poorly 
again.  Isn't  it  hard  to  sit  serenely  in  one's  soul 
when  one's  body  is  in  a  dilapidated  state?  I  feel 
it  a  great  bore,  but  try  to  do  it  patiently,  and  hope 
to  see  the  why  by  and  by,  when  this  mysterious 
life  is  made  clear  to  me.  I  had  a  lovely  dream  about 
that  and  want  to  tell  it  to  you  some  day.  Love 
to  all. 

"  Ever  yours, 

"  L.  M.  A." 


A  LOVING  MEMORY.  323 

Mrs.  Bond  had  her  own  corner  in  the  affections 
of  the  entire  family.  It  was  through  her  kindness 
that  May  was  able  to  take  the  first  steps  in  her 
work,  and  all  through  their  trials  and  struggles  she 
had  been  a  stanch  and  faithful  friend.  "  Mar- 
mee's  "  death  had  brought  her  specially  close  to 
Louisa,  who  loved  to  write  to  her  during  those  quiet 
days. 

Even  as  late  as  the  spring  and  summer  of  1887, 
Louisa  was  planning  new  work  for  the  coming 
year.  "  A  Modern  Mephistopheles "  was  repub- 
lished  under  her  own  name,  with  one  of  her  old 
stories,  "  A  Whisper  in  the  Dark,"  to  round  out  the 
volume ;  to  this  she  wrote  the  following  explanatory 
preface : 

" '  A  Modern  Mephistopheles '  was  written 
among  the  earlier  volumes  of  the  No  Name  Series, 
when  the  chief  idea  of  the  authors  was  to  puzzle 
their  readers  as  much  as  possible,  that  they  might 
enjoy  the  guessing  and  criticism  as  each  novel  ap- 
peared. This  book  was  very  successful  in  preserv- 
ing its  incognito,  and  many  persons  still  insist  that 
it  could  not  have  been  written  by  the  author  of 
'  Little  Women.'  As  I  much  enjoyed  trying  to  em- 
body a  shadow  of  my  favorite  poem  in  the  story,  as 
well  as  the  amusement  it  has  afforded  those  in  the 
secret  for  some  years,  it  is  considered  well  to  add 
this  volume  to  the  few  romances  which  are  offered, 
not  as  finished  work  by  any  means,  but  merely  at- 


324  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

tempts  at  something  graver  than  magazine  stories 
or  juvenile  literature. 

"  L.  M.  ALCOTT." 

The  romances  to  which  she  refers  are  "  Work," 
"  Moods,"  and  "  A  Modern  Mephistopheles,"  which 
Roberts  Brothers  were  bringing  out  in  uniform  vol- 
umes. Another  story  was  simmering,  "  A  Tragedy 
of  To-day."  "  I  hope,"  she  writes  Mr.  Niles,  "  to 
do  '  A  Tragedy  of  To-day  '  this  summer,  and  it  can 
come  out  in  the  fall  or  next  spring.  ...  A  spunky 
new  one  would  make  the  old  ones  go." 

In  another  letter  to  Mrs.  Bond,  she  writes :  "  As 
you  and  I  belong  to  the  '  Shut-in  Society,'  we  may 
now  and  then  cheer  each  other  by  a  line.  Your  note 
and  verse  are  very  good  to  me  to-day,  as  I  sit  trying 
to  feel  all  right,  in  spite  of  the  stiffness  that  won't 
walk,  the  rebel  stomach  that  won't  work,  and  the 
tired  head  that  won't  rest. 

"  My  verse  lately  has  been  from  a  little  poem 
found  under  a  good  soldier's  pillow  in  the  hospital : 

I  am  no  longer  eager,  bold  and  strong, 

All  that  is  past; 
I  am  ready  not  to  do — 

At  last— at  last— 
My  half-day's  work  is  done, 
And  this  is  all  my  part — 

I  give  a  patient  God 

My  patient  heart. 


A  LOVING  MEMORY. 


325 


"  The  learning  not  to  do  is  so  hard  after  being 
the  hub  to  the  family  wheel  so  long.  But  it  is  good 
for  the  energetic  ones  to  find  that  the  world  can  get 
on  without  them,  and  learn  to  be  still,  to  give  up, 
and  wait  cheerfully. 

"  As  we  have  '  fell  into  poetry,'  as  Silas  Wegg 
says,  I  add  a  bit  of  my  own;  for  since  you  are 
Marmee  now,  I  feel  that  you  won't  laugh  at  my 
poor  attempts  any  more  than  she  did,  even  when 
I  burst  forth  at  the  ripe  age  of  eight." 

Perhaps  the  following  lines  were  what  she  sent; 
at  any  rate,  though  written  a  year  earlier,  they  seem 
most  appropriate  here,  showing  as  they  do,  every 
side  of  her  rich  nature : 


MY  PRAYER. 

Courage  and  patience,  these  I  ask, 
Dear  Lord,  in  this— my  latest  strait; 

For  hard  I  find  my  ten  years'  task, 
Learning  to  suffer  and  to  wait. 

Life  seems  so  rich  and  grand  a  thing, 
So  full  of  work  for  heart  and  brain, 

It  is  a  cross  that  I  can  bring, 
No  help,  no  offering,  but  pain. 

The  hard-earned  harvest  of  these  years, 

I  long  to  generously  share; 
The  lessons  learned  with  bitter  tears, 

To  teach  again  with  tender  care; 


326  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

To  smooth  the  rough  and  thorny  way, 
Where  other  feet  begin  to  tread; 

To  feed  some  hungry  soul  each  day, 
With  sympathy's  sustaining  bread. 

So  beautiful  such  pleasures  show, 

I  long  to  make  them  mine; 
To  love  and  labor,  and  to  know 

The  joy  such  living  makes  divine. 

But  if  I  may  not,  I  will  only  ask 
Courage  and  patience  for  my  fate, 

And  learn,  dear  Lord,  thy  latest  task, 
To  suffer  patiently  and  wait. 

To  Mrs.  Bond  she  sent  the  first  author's  copy  of 
"  Lulu's  Library.'"  She  had  always  done  this  to 
her  mother,  and  she  felt  that  this  well-loved  aunt 
was  a  fitting  representative  of  "  Marmee."  The 
book  was  made  up  of  many  of  the  old  "  Flower 
Fables,"  told  long  ago  to  her  sister  May  and  her 
playmates,  and  retold  to  Lulu,  with  many  fresh 
touches. 

Her  last  birthday  was  a  happy  one,  though  still 
in  seclusion.  Letters,  gifts  and  flowers  came  crowd- 
ing upon  her,  and  she  was  feeling  so  much  better 
that  everyone  began  to  hope  for  her  recovery. 
After  Christmas,  there  were  busy  preparations  for 
Fred's  wedding,  in  which  Louisa  took  a  deep  in- 
terest, though  she  sat  apart  in  her  sanctuary.  Her 
father  began  at  this  time  to  fail  rapidly,  and  she 
wrote  Mrs.  Bond,  February  7,  1888 : 


A  LOVING  MEMORY.  327 

"  DEAR  AUNTIE  : 

"  My  blessed  Anna  is  so  busy  [Fred  was  to  be 
married  next  day],  and  I  can  do  so  little  to  help 
her,  I  feel  as  if  I  might  take  upon  me  the  pleasant 
duty  of  writing  to  you. 

"  Father  is  better,  and  we  are  all  so  grateful,  for 
just  now  we  want  all  to  be  bright  for  our  boy. 

"  The  end  is  not  far  off,  but  Father  rallies  won- 
derfully from  each  feeble  spell,  and  keeps  serene 
and  happy  through  everything.  I  don't  ask  to  keep 
him,  now  that  life  is  a  burden,  and  am  glad  to 
have  him  go  before  it  becomes  a  pain.  We  shall 
miss  the  dear  old  white  head,  and  the  feeble  saint, 
so  long  our  care ;  but  as  Anna  says,  '  He  will  be 
with  Mother.'  So  we  shall  be  happy  in  the  hope  of 
that  meeting. 

"  Sunday  he  seemed  very  low,  and  I  was  allowed 
to  drive  in  and  say  *  good-by.'  He  knew  me  and 
smiled,  and  kissed  '  Weedy/  as  he  calls  me,  and  I 
thought  the  drowsiness  and  difficulty  of  breathing 
could  not  last  long.  But  he  revived,  got  up,  and 
seemed  so  much  as  usual,  I  may  be  able  to  see  him 
again.  It  is  a  great  grief  that  I  am  not  there  as 
I  was  with  Lizzie  and  Mother,  but  though  much 
better,  the  shattered  nerves  won't  bear  much  yet, 
and  quiet  is  my  only  cure. 

"  I  sit  alone,  and  bless  the  little  pair,  like  a  fond 
old  grandmother.  You  show  me  how  to  do  it. 
With  love  to  all, 

"  Yours  ever,  Lu." 


328  LOUISA   MAY  ALCOTT. 

Her  last  note  to  Mrs.  Bond  was : 

"February  8,  1888. 

"Air,  'Haste  to  the  Wedding!' 
"  DEAR  AUNTIE  : 

"  I  little  knew  what  a  sweet  surprise  was  in  store 
for  me  when  I  wrote  you  yesterday. 

"  As  I  worked  this  morning  my  good  Dr.  Law- 
rence came  in  with  the  lovely  azalea,  her  round  face 
beaming  through  the  leaves  like  a  full  moon. 

"  It  is  very  dear  of  you  to  remember  me  and 
cheer  up  my  lonely  day  with  such  a  beautiful  guest. 

"  It  stands  beside  me  on  Marmee's  worktable, 
and  reminds  me  tenderly  of  her  favorite  flowers. 
Among  those  used  at  her  funeral  was  a  spray  of 
this,  which  lasted  for  two  weeks  afterwards,  open- 
ing bud  by  bud  in  the  glass  on  her  table,  where  lay 
the  dear  old  '  Jos  May '  hymn  book  and  her  diary, 
with  the  pen  shut  in,  just  as  she  left  it  when  she 
last  wrote  there,  three  days  before  the  end.  '  The 
twilight  is  closing  about  me,  and  I  am  going  to  rest 
in  the  arms  of  my  children.' 

"  So  you  see  I  love  the  delicate  flower  and  enjoy 
it  very  much. 

"  I  can  write  now,  and  soon  hope  to  come  out 
and  see  you  for  a  few  minutes,  as  I  drive  out  every 
fine  day,  and  go  and  kiss  my  people  once  a  week,  for 
fifteen  minutes. 

"  Slow  climbing,  but  I  don't  slip  back ;  so  think 


A  LOVING  MEMORY.  329 

up  my  mercies,  and  sing  cheerfully,  as  dear  Marmee 
used  to  do. 

"  '  Thus  far  the  Lord  has  led  me  on! ' 
"  Your  loving 

"  Lu." 

Thus,  with  courage,  patience,  and  beautiful  faith, 
Louisa  Alcott  climbed  higher  and  higher  toward  the 
Celestial  City  which  from  childhood  she  had  seen 
afar.  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress "  had  been  her 
guiding  star  through  life,  as  it  had  been  her  father's 
and  her  mother's  before  her,  as  it  was,  indeed,  to 
the  stanch  Puritan  from  generation  to  generation. 

In  the  beautiful  lines  to  her  father  on  his  eighty- 
sixth  birthday,  especially  in  the  first  and  last 
stanzas,  she  shows  how  the  wonderful  allegory 
rounded  out  the  measure  of  his  years : 

Dear  Pilgrim,  waiting  patiently 

The  long,  long  journey  nearly  done, 
Beside  the  sacred  stream  that  flows 

Clear  shining  in  the  western  sun; 
Look  backward  on  the  varied  road 

Your  steadfast  feet  have  trod, 
From  youth  to  age,  through  weal  and  woe, 

Climbing  forever  nearer  God. 

The  staff  set  by,  the  sandals  off, 
Still  pondering  the  precious  scroll, 

Serene  and  strong  he  waits  the  call 
That  frees  and  wings  a  happy  soul. 


330  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

There,  beautiful  as  when  it  lured 

The  boy's  aspiring  eyes, 
Before  the  Pilgrim's  longing  sight, 

Shall  the  Celestial  City  rise. 

Louisa  was  never  afraid  of  death.  To  those  she 
had  loved,  it  had  brought  peace,  and  though  the  love 
of  living  was  strong  within  her,  she  was  content, 
as  she  said,  to  "  wait  patiently  "  God's  will. 

Early  in  March,  her  father  grew  alarmingly 
worse.  With  aching  heart,  Louisa  drove  in  to  see 
him  for  the  last  time,  and  the  last  letter  she  ever 
wrote  was  penned  just  afterwards  to  her  friend, 
Mrs.  Porter,  who  had  sent  her  a  pretty  picture  of 
May.  The  little  note  reads  as  follows: 

"  DEAR  MRS.  PORTER  : 

"  Thanks  for  the  picture,  I  am  glad  to  have  it. 
No  philosophy  is  needed  for  the  impending  event. 
I  shall  be  very  glad  when  the  dear  old  man  falls 
asleep  after  his  long  and  innocent  life.  Sorrow 
has  no  place  at  such  times,  and  death  is  never  ter- 
rible when  it  comes  in  the  likeness  of  a  friend. 
"  Yours  truly, 

"  L.  M.  ALCOTT. 

"  P.S. — I  have  another  year  to  stay  in  my  '  Saint's 
Rest,'  and  then  I  am  promised  twenty  years  of 
health.  I  don't  want  so  many,  and  I  have  no  idea 
I  shall  see  them.  But  as  I  don't  live  for  myself.  I 
hold  on  for  others,  and  shall  find  time  to  die  some 
day,  I  hope." 


A  LOVING  MEMORY.  331 

She  had  been  lured  by  the  mild  weather  to  make 
some  change  in  her  dress,  and  absorbed  in  her  own 
sad  thoughts  over  the  pain  of  parting,  she  forgot 
the  fur  wrap  she  usually  wore.  So  like  she  was 
to  a  fragile  hot-house  plant,  that  the  faintest  whiff 
of  air  to  which  she  was  not  accustomed  was  apt  to 
prove  disastrous. 

The  next  day  she  was  stricken  down;  merciful 
unconsciousness  came  to  her  like  an  angel  of  peace 
and  rest,  and  on  March  6,  1888,  Louisa  Alcott 
closed  her  weary  eyes  and  "  went  out  with  the  tide  " 
to  meet  the  father  who  had  gone  two  days  before. 


Over  twenty  years  have  passed  since  the  dark 
hour  when  the  children  heard — "  Louisa  Alcott  is 
dead,"  and  thousands  can  recall  the  sorrow  that 
filled  their  hearts,  and  the  tears  that  dimmed  their 
eyes. 

There  are  those  who  remember  the  simple  funeral 
in  her  father's  rooms,  the  touching  words  read  over 
her,  and  the  quiet  burial  at  Concord  in  the  ceme- 
tery of  Sleepy  Hollow,  at  the  feet  of  those  she 
loved  the  best,  in  the  gracious  company  of  the  men 
and  women  who  had  been  closest  to  her  in  her  life. 

"  Her  boys "  went  beside  her  as  a  guard  of 
honor,  and  the  girls  hid  their  bright  eyes,  and  wept 
for  the  dear,  dead  friend. 

But  she  was  not  dead;  Louisa  Alcott's  presence 
was  too  radiant  to  pass  without  leaving  a  stream 


332  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

of  light  behind.  She  lives  in  her  books,  in  the 
hearts  of  her  readers,  in  the  untold  deeds  of  love 
and  kindness,  which  were  locked  up  in  the  great, 
generous  soul. 

She  was  so  modest  that  few  people,  outside  of 
her  own  circle  of  friends,  knew  what  charm  of 
mind  and  person  she  possessed.  She  was  tall,  and 
in  later  years  somewhat  stately,  with  finely  chiseled, 
rather  massive  features,  and  a  wealth  of  chestnut 
hair,  which  waved  over  the  fine  forehead ;  her  com- 
plexion was  brilliant,  and  her  eyes  were  "  glori- 
ously blue."  As  to  expression,  this  beautiful  son- 
net by  Margaret  Ashman,  an  ardent  admirer,  will 
best  express  what  a  thoughtful  person  read  in  the 
face  of  Louisa  Alcott. 

ON  A  PORTRAIT  OF  Miss  ALCOTT.   , 

In  all  my  fancies,  when  I  was  a  child, 

I  pictured  her  a  princess,  stately  made — 

Fair-featured,  rich,  a  new  Sheherazade, 

On  whom  a  kindly  fate  forever  smiled. 

The  blithesome  story-teller,  that  beguiled 

The  soul  of  childhood.     Could  her  beauty  fade, 

Her  genius  wane,  her  ready  pen  be  stayed 

By  grief  or  age?     'Twere  heresy  most  wild 

To  think  these  things.    Now,  where  I  musing  stand, 

Her  portrait  hangs.    This  unassuming  guise 

Shows,  not  a  princess,  haughty  to  command, 

But  one  most  humble,  human,  sorrow-wise, 

Who  seems  to  live  and  reach  me  forth  her  hand, 

A  woman,  simple,  sweet,  with  tired  eyes. 


A  LOVING  MEMORY.  333 

A  woman!  That  is  what  she  strove  to  be,  a 
strong,  self-reliant,  practical  woman,  showing  her 
more  timid  sisters  the  way  to  freedom,  through 
high  endeavors  and  noble  purpose,  never  swerving 
from  the  path  of  duty  through  all  the  trials  of  her 
life.  Her  father  wrote  of  her: 

When  I  remember  with  what  buoyant  heart, 

Midst  war's  alarms  and  woes  of  civil  strife, 

In  youthful  eagerness,  thou  didst  depart, 

At  peril  of  thy  safety,  peace,  and  life, 

To  nurse  the  wounded  soldier,  swathe  the  dead, 

How  pierced  soon  by  fever's  poisoned  dart, 

And  brought,  unconscious,  home  with  'wildered  head, 

Thou  ever  since  'mid  languor  and  dull  pain, 

To  conquer  fortune,  cherish  kindred  dear, 

Hast  with  grave  studies  vexed  a  sprightly  brain, 

In  myriad  households  kindled  love  and  cheer, 

Ne'er  from  thyself  by  Fame's  loud  trump  beguiled, 

Sounding  in  this  and  the  farther  hemisphere — 

I  press  thee  to  my  heart,  as  Duty's  faithful  child. 

They  are  all  sleeping  now,  under  the  pines  they 
loved  so  well — all  but  May — though  the  simple 
stone  marks  her  vacant  corner.  Mother,  Father, 
Anna,  Beth,  with  the  baby  brother,  dead  so  long 
ago,  and  at  their  feet,  guarding  them,  Louisa,  that 
she  might  "  take  care  "  of  them  as  she  had  done  all 
her  life. 

Little  Lulu  went  back  to  her  father  and  the  years 
have  touched  her  into  charming  womanhood.  The 


334  LOUISA   MAY   ALCOTT. 

"  boys  "  live  on  in  Concord  and  Boston,  with  homes 
and  families  of  their  own,  keeping  green  the  mem- 
ory of  the  woman  who  gave  them  all  she  had,  her 
love,  her  fortune,  and  the  undimmed  luster  of  her 
name. 


0) 


THE   END. 


APPLETONS'  SUPPLEMENTARY  READERS. 

Uncle  Robert's  Geography. 

By  the  late  FRANCIS  W.  PARKER  and  NELLIE 
L.  HELM.  A  Series  of  Geographical  Readers 
for  Supplementary  Use.  Four  volumes.  Illus- 
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2.  On  the  Farm 43      «« 

3.  Uncle  Robert's  Visit 50      " 

4.  A  River  Journey ••••••.60      * 

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Forest  Land. 

By  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS.  Illustrated. 
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Illustrated.     I2mo.     Ornamental  cloth,  $1.00. 

"  A  book  which  every  parent  would  show  wisdom  in  putting  in  the  libraries 
of  his  children."— Dayton  Daily  Mews. 

Little  Miss  Sunshine. 

Illustrated.     I2mo.     Ornamental  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  A  delightful,  wholesome,  readable  book  for  girls." — Criterion. 

Little  Comrade. 

Illustrated.     I2mo.     Ornamental  cloth,  $1.00. 

Every  child  should  be  taught  the  love  of  animals.  This  book  teaches 
that  love. 

The  Colburn  Prize. 

Illustrated.     I2mo.     Ornamental  cloth,  $1.00. 

Dedicated  to  the  school-girls  throughout  the  land.  Nine  full-page  illustra- 
tions add  to  the  charm  of  this  exquisite  gift  book. 

D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 

Phone  Renewals 
310/829-9188 

4WKMAY08  1995 

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